


Circling Fireflies

by xxmirabellaxx



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, Kpop - Fandom, Super Junior, yunjae - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Band Fic, Eventual AU, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:38:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 78,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3541505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxmirabellaxx/pseuds/xxmirabellaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as an SM trainee is hard. Especially for Jaejoong. Shy and clumsy, he gets bullied until golden boy Yunho steps in to help him. They form an unlikely friendship that soon deepens into something more. Together, they survive all the ups and downs of idol life: sickness, sasaengs, and brutal schedules. But as their fame grows, so do their problems, until one day they’re faced with a terrible choice.</p><p>© 2015-2017 XXMIRABELLAXX ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes right for Jaejoong. He's shy, clumsy & he gets bullied. One day, he finally gets his wish: he's an SM trainee! But when he can't seem to stay out of trouble, golden boy Yunho steps in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story started as a cute little drabble about Jae's first day at SM, but it kept growing...and growing. I'm still working on it, but I thought I'd post the first chapter and see if anyone likes it. If they do, I'll write more.
> 
> The story is technically a bandfic, but it's my own version of history. Events are out of order, people say and do things they didn't in real life. Think of it as an AU where things are only slightly different. Some worse, some better.
> 
> Comments are appreciated. ^^

* * *

 

  
  
_I wish the darkness would swallow me up._  Anything to get away from the glare aimed at me by my coordi  _noona_. She’d spent hours tracking me down to go over my schedule for this week, and she wasn’t happy about it. Right now, she’s angrily jabbing her fingers at her cell phone, texting my manager to let him know about the trouble I caused. Great.  _I wish I could disappear._  
  
“Wait here.” Coordi  _noona_  points to a row of green plastic chairs lined up along the wall outside the practice studios. “I need to go check with Manager Park about your training schedule. Okay, Jaejoong?”   
  
I bow.  _Must show my manners._  She nods brusquely at me and bustles off toward the director’s office at the other end of the building, the flat slap of her flipflops echoing down the hall. I’m alone again.  _Relief._  
  
I lean against the wall near the benches, huddling deep into the warmth of my oversized hoodie. It’s always chilly back here by the dance practice rooms, but it’s extra cold after hours when SM turns the heat off. I tilt my head back against the wall and close my eyes. My breath sounds loud in the quiet of SM’s vast building, but it’s reassuring.  _I exist. I’m here. This is really happening._  All those months of living on cheap ramen, donating blood to pay for rooms. All the long hours at odd jobs. Cold nights walking the streets when I had nowhere to sleep. All my sacrifices were worth it. _I’m here._    
  
SM had signed me on as a trainee after seeing my last audition tape. Now, I’d get the professional guidance I’d always dreamed of. No more charity voice lessons from Old Lady Neuk, the  _ahjumma_  downstairs in my apartment building. I’d learn from the best singing coaches Korea could offer. Singing! I’d get to sing all day long in real practice rooms with sound equipment and keyboards and decent acoustics. No more pretending mop handles were microphones while cleaning out grimy storage rooms. No more running scales in dark warehouses at night. I’d learn how to breathe properly, how to hold a long note without my voice cracking. Learn to make the most of the voice I’d been given.   
  
“Your tone is beautiful,” Mrs. Neuk once told me in a rare moment of praise. “Don’t fight it. Let it shine through!”  
  
I’d try again, try so hard to make it sound the way she wanted, but she’d shake her head. “Your voice is like a wild horse right now. Beautiful and strong, but always running away from you. You must learn to rein it in. Master it! When you do, it will take you farther than you can dream.”   
  
_I have so much to learn._  
  
And so I’d stayed late in the practice rooms at SM tonight, doing vocal exercises and singing  _Painfully Loving You_  until Coordi Noona came and found me. Where had I been? She’d been trying to reach me all day. There were changes to my schedule, she said. She scolded me for forgetting my phone at home, and then told me to wait. That’s how I ended up here, standing in the dark hall by myself.   
  
It’s been a while since  _noona_  left. I pace around in the dim light, peering through the narrow glass windows on the practice room doors. The lights are off, so all I can see is an expanse of glossy wood flooring and the faint gleam of mirrored walls.  _Boring._  I study the bulletin board with its announcements of instruments for sale and room shares.  _Boring._  I turn away, looking for something else to pass the time.  _I wish I had my phone._  
  
There’s a line of black tiles down the center of the hall. I walk it heel-to-toe, like a tightrope. I imagine myself wearing a spangled costume, performing in front of a crowd. I can hear their applause, their gasps as I totter, arms flailing, then their cheers as I save myself. My vision is so vivid that it seems I really can hear their cheers. I stop tightrope-walking and stand straight, listening. From the stairwell near me I hear faint whoops and yells. Someone’s coming up the stairs. Several someones, judging by the noise they make as they get closer. I stare hard at the closed stairwell door, straining to hear what they’re saying. I make out several voices, mostly male. They’re saying something about a show. A showcase? Show King! And just as I realize who it is, the stairwell door flies open and they’re standing right in front of me: Dana and her backup dancers, fresh from their performance on MNet Show King.   
  
“That girl with the sequins on her b— _omo_!” Dana yelps the final word in shock as she almost runs into me. She jerks back and stares. The guys behind her look at me wide-eyed, mouths startled into open Os. I bow low, embarrassed.   
  
“Sorry! So sorry!”   
  
We’re all bowing now. We’re all startled. Caught off guard. I’m too nervous to look directly at Dana. The backup dancers are a tall blur behind her. Then Dana gives a breathless laugh. “Oh, you made me jump! I didn’t think anybody would be here this late.”  
  
I bow again, and manage to raise my eyes to her face.   
  
“Sorry. It’s my first free day since I got here, and I was singing—well, doing voice exercises—and I didn’t notice the time until Coordi Noona came and yelled at me and then she left for the off-office…”   
  
I stutter to a halt as I see her glance at one of the dancers and smile. They all exchange looks. I hear a few muffled snorts. They’re laughing at me. Heat prickles in a wave up my neck as I blush. I can barely look at them. They’re too glamorous.   
  
Dana is wearing a pleated short skirt under a jacket. Her hair is long and shiny, and she still has her stage makeup on. Her skin shimmers in the low light of the hall. The dancers are wearing blue vinyl jumpsuits, with their hair styled to perfection. I must look wretched next to them, in my faded jeans and gray hoodie with a hole in the right sleeve. Envy spikes through me. Dana has a hit song. They were on TV, performing in front of the entire world. They’re stars. I can’t imagine belonging in a group like this. Me? Be like them?  _You and your stupid daydreams, Jae._  I bow my head, hoping they’ll just walk past and leave me alone.  
  
I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. Someone’s hand rests there. I look up into the face of one of the backup dancers. His glossy dark hair spikes into a fringe around his face and he shows sharp canines when he smiles at me.  _Tiger teeth._  But his eyes are kind. When he speaks, his voice rumbles low and warm.  
  
“Practice is good. It’s the only way to get better. You’ll see.” He motions with his head toward Dana and the others. “We all started where you are.”   
  
He gives my shoulder a final reassuring squeeze, then drops his hand. His smile turns mischievous. He swivels slightly and calls over his shoulder to the others “Yah! We’d better watch our backs! Or…” He looks back at me. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Kim Jaejoong.”   
  
“Or Kim Jaejoong is going to steal the spotlight from us!”   
  
Dana and the dancers hoot with laughter, but there’s no mockery in it now. I feel the uncomfortable prickling of embarrassment ease. The friendly dancer gives me a small wink. He’s changed the mood and he knows it.   
  
Dana’s seen enough. “Come on, let’s get these clothes back to wardrobe and get out of here. I’m starving.”   
  
The group shuffles past and heads down the hall. Dana smiles at me as she walks by, and the dancers follow her lead. “ _Aja aja_ , Kim Jaejoong!” yells one long-haired guy over his shoulder. Then they’re back to talking about Show King again.  
  
Tiger Teeth leans in close to me. He raises his hand and for a second I think he’s going to touch me again, but he only clenches it into a fist and whispers, “Kim Jaejoong  _hwaiting_!” He grins. Then he turns and sprints down the hall after the others. They vanish around the corner.  
  
I stand still for a few minutes, waiting for the sounds of their chatter to fade in the distance before I relax. A thin film of moisture beads my upper lip, and I suddenly realize that my heart is beating madly. I put my hand on my chest and breathe deeply, trying to calm down.  _What just happened?_  Logically, I know I’m overreacting. Some performers stopped by the studio after a show to drop off their stuff and ran into a new trainee. Big deal. It probably happens all the time at SM. But I can’t shake the feeling that something important happened. This moment feels huge, portentous. Standing alone in the dark silence of the studio with a racing heartbeat and a memory of kind eyes, I think:  _It’s started._  
  
     

 

—*—

  
  
The next day, I walk into the practice room and find a group of trainees viewing a video of Dana’s Star King performance on the wall-mounted TV. One of the girls from my voice class is there. When I walk up, she turns to me and sighs. Her eyes are dreamy.  
  
“Dana is the best. I’ve been her fan since  _Until the End of The World_. But this song’s even better because of Yunho.”  
  
“Because of what?”  
  
“Yunho. Jung Yunho? The rapper?” She turns to the screen and waits a moment, then gestures to the video. “Him.”  
  
She’s pointing to the kind dancer from last night. I almost don’t recognize him. There’s no trace of the gentle guy I met. I’m mesmerized by how fierce he looks on stage. He’s energetic and strong, synching with the other dancers and delivering the rap lines in perfect English.  _A pro, already. A pro._  My stomach twists. His encouraging words from before seem laughable now. Like indulging a child’s fantasy. As if I could ever be like him!   
  
I watch every second of the song. And then refresh the video and watch it again. And again, despite protests from the other trainees. One by one, they wander off, until I’m alone in front of the screen. I keep watching. I watch him perform under the hot lights of Star King until I’ve memorized every move.  _Yunho._  
   

 

 

—)(—

  
  
“Your admirer’s back.”  
  
I turn to see who Heechul is talking about. It’s that kid. He’s peering in through the glass of the practice room door. When our gazes meet, he lights up, smiling and waving. I want to laugh, he looks so much like an owl, with his hair sticking up in scraggly tufts from a bad cut and his huge, dark eyes. Instead, I wave back. The kid starts to bow and hits his forehead on the glass. I can hear the solid  _whack_  sound it makes from where I’m standing and wince. That had to hurt. He freezes for a moment, eyes wide, while red creeps up his neck into his face, then ducks his head and disappears from view. For a moment it’s quiet, and then everyone in the practice room bursts into laughter. Even the dour dance instructor chuckles.  
  
I try not to laugh too, but I can’t help it. That kid is unbelievably clumsy. He’s always dropping papers, spilling drinks, running into walls, tripping over his own feet. I’m amazed he hasn’t broken a leg yet. I hope for his sake he sings only ballads, because I can’t imagine him trying to keep up with the complicated choreography of a pop dance routine. He’d probably knock the other performers offstage. I shake my head and turn to find Heechul looking at me with a speculative glint in his eyes.   
  
“Every day he comes by. I wonder what he wants from our Yunho…” Heechul lets the sentence trail off suggestively, licking his lips and letting his eyes slowly scan the length of my body. I elbow him in the ribs. Hard.  
  
“ _Pabo_ ,” I say. I know what Heechul thinks. Hell, I’d think the same thing if the kid were doing it to him and not me. When someone shows up to watch you dance every day and follows your every move with stars in their eyes, of course you’d think they have a crush. But I know better.   
  
A few days after I met him in the dark hall after MNet, I went to grab some shrimp crackers from the SM canteen and there he was. Kim Jaejoong. He was sitting at one of the long cafeteria tables with a group of girls. They were all huddled around a netbook.  _Looking at videos_ , I guessed. As if he sensed someone watching, Jaejoong looked up and scanned the canteen. As always, he blushed and lowered his head when he saw me.  _How will someone so shy perform on stage?_  I waved hello and started to turn away, when he scrambled up from his chair and hurried over to me. He reached out and touched my arm, like he was afraid I’d walk away while he was speaking. He didn’t grab me. It was a feather-light touch, his fingertips skimming across my skin for a moment before he withdrew his hand. But the skinship surprised me and apparently embarrassed him, because he immediately hunched into his jacket and stared at the ground.  _Awkward._  
  
“Hey,” I said.  
  
He nodded and looked at my feet silently.  _Okaaaaay._  
  
Then he spoke. “I wanted to say…to say thank you,” he stammered.   
  
“For what?”  
  
“For the other night. Standing up to them.” He finally raised his gaze to mine. “For me.”  
  
“Ah, it was nothing. Those guys don’t realize how they come across sometimes. Don’t hold it against them.”  
  
“No, no!” he rushed to say. “I wouldn’t dream… I mean, I wouldn’t presume…” I could see him struggling with the right words. Finally, he spoke low, “It’s not my place to judge my  _sunbaes_.”  
  
“Your place? Your place is what you make it here. Earn respect and you’ll get respect. Work hard and you’ll be rewarded.” I smiled. “But you already know that. That’s why you were practicing so late the other night, right?”  
  
The kid nodded hesitantly.   
  
“Well, there you go. For me, I wouldn’t want to train anywhere but SM. It’s the best. You’ll see. They’ll get you up to speed. You’ll be performing on stage with us in no time.”  
  
Jaejoong looked doubtful. “I hope so,” he said.  
  
_Honestly, this kid. How did he think he was going to succeed with that attitude?_  
  
“Look, Kim Jaejoong. If you don’t believe in you, nobody else will. Picture what you want clearly in your mind and go for it. Let nothing and no one hold you back from that dream. No matter what. Got it?”  
  
He stared at me again with that intense, dark gaze.  _What’s going on behind those eyes?_  He appeared to be thinking of a response, so I waited.   
  
Jaejoong opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, then laughed nervously. Finally, he bowed. “Thank you for the advice,  _sunbae_.” He turned and almost ran away from me and out of the canteen.   
  
_Weird kid._    
  
And now he’s showing up outside my practice room every day. Heechul is wrong about the crush, but it’s clear that SM’s new trainee has a case of hero worship. It’s kind of flattering, really. And sad. What had that kid’s life been like if a throwaway moment of kindness could earn his devotion?   
  
“Yah! Yunho! You won’t dance without an audience anymore?” The dance instructor speaks sourly, leaning forward with both hands clasped atop the long wooden staff he uses to mark time. I realize that Heechul and Eunhyuk are in position to run the routine again. They’re waiting on me. Heechul smirks.  
  
“Sorry!” I shake off all thoughts of the strange boy’s solemn looks and blushes. I can’t let myself get distracted. Not now, when things are finally coming together.  _Focus, Yunho. Eyes on the prize._  
  
    

 

—)(—

  
  
“I’m grilling beef tonight. I need something to fill me up after that routine.” Eunhyuk groans and clutches his stomach like he hasn’t eaten in weeks—when I know for a fact that he inhaled a huge bowl of  _bibimbap_  for lunch. His shirt is off from his recent shower, and I can count every rib as he leans against the lockers in the changing room. Where he hides all that food in his shrimpy body is anyone’s guess.  
  
“Why don’t we go to Red Bowl? They have the best side dishes,” Heechul suggests, as he digs through his gym bag. “And they serve soju to anyone, no questions asked.”  
  
“My kind of place. I’m in!” says Kangin. “Who else is going?”  
  
“Well, there’s us. And Taehyun and his group. And I already promised Junsu we’d go out for dinner. He won’t care if we’re not alone.” replies Heechul. He’s got his wallet out now, counting his  _won_.  
  
“Wait…all guys? Don’t we know any girls to invite?” Eunhyuk straightens up from the lockers in dismay, his starvation act forgotten.  
  
“Of course we know girls,” says Heechul with an exaggerated eyeroll. “That doesn’t mean we have to invite them every time we go out. Sometimes it’s fun just hanging out with the guys. It’s called male bonding. Right, Yunho?”  
  
I nod. I don’t care either way as long as I get some food soon. “Boys’ Night Out is good.”  
  
“See? No girls needed. Orrrr…” Heechul pauses and shoots me a naughty look.  _Uh-oh._  I brace myself for his next words. “We could have the best of both worlds if Yunho invites his girlfriend along.”   
  
The room erupts with laughter. Kangin pounding Heechul on the back in appreciation while he doubles over with glee at his own joke. I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”  
  
My “girlfriend” is Kim Jaejoong, the nickname common knowledge among SM trainees. Everyone sees the way his eyes follow me, his blushes and stammers, his rapt appreciation of my dancing, and the way he tries to get my attention. At first people dismissed his behavior as a bad case of hero worship. That happened a lot at SM, as rookies met the idols they’d admired on TV for years. They only started calling it a crush when they learned that Jaejoong was voted “best face” among SM’s new trainees that year. That prize was meant for the girl trainees. No guy had ever won it before, as far as I know. But as the months went by, and Jaejoong started putting on weight and losing that pinched thinness he had at first, you could start to see why he’d won. He lost that haunted, owl-eyed look. His hair grew out of that awful chop job. Now, it frames the emerging bone structure of his face, flattering his soft features.  _He’ll be handsome someday._  
  
“Jaejoong is blossoming into a beautiful young woman,” says Eunhyuk, batting his eyes and clasping his hands in front of his chest. “Soon, all the boys will be lined up to date her.”  
  
“Cut it out.” I‘m not in the mood for this. And I don’t like the way they always bully that poor kid. He can’t help looking girly.  
  
“What? You don’t like the idea of competition?” Eunhyuk reaches out and grabs Heechul’s hands. “You don’t want to see other names on her dance card?” Eunhyuk pumps Heechul’s arms and they start to waltz around the changing room. Kangin claps out a rhythm while Eunhyuk hums a tune, spinning Heechul through a series of swooping turns in the narrow space, bumping into lockers and tripping over towels on the floor.   
  
“Soon, other arms will hold your sweet Jaejoong.” Eunyuk dips Heechul backwards and holds the position, lowering his face toward Heechul. “Other lips will kiss—“ Heechul swats at him and struggles to break out of the clinch. They fall to the floor, breathless and laughing, and I smile in spite of myself. They don’t mean any harm. But their teasing makes me think I should invite the kid along with us. He’s always hanging out with the girls—the girls love him—but the guys steer clear. Or worse, they make fun of him for being feminine. I should be a good  _hyung_  and help him make some friends. Maybe hanging out with us will wipe that star-struck look from his face too, when he sees we’re just ordinary guys who drink too much and belch and get stupid. I feel a twinge at the idea of not being the focus of that flattering, intense gaze anymore. But that’s selfish. I should be better than that.  _I’ll ask him._  
 

  

—*—

  
  
_I’m drunk._  I stagger back from the bathroom toward our table. Our group was lucky enough to get a semi-private room at the back of Red Bowl, so it’s just us at a long wooden table in a bamboo-screened alcove. Heechul said it’s because they know we’re SM trainees and don’t want everyone to see that we’re drinking underage. A lot of restaurants in this area look out for us trainees, hoping we’ll promote them when we’re famous. But I wonder. So many SM trainees never make it. They drop out for personal reasons or health problems. They grow older and find careers that interest them more. They get married. They get pregnant. Worst of all is when SM decides they don’t have what it takes to be stars, and they become backup dancers and studio performers. While the public says SM stands for “Star Maker,” trainees joke that it means “Standby Members” or “Sorry, Mate.” That’s how Lee Soo Man always starts his rejection speeches. “Sorry, mate, it’s not going to happen for you.” So many dreams die in his office at SM.   
  
_I won’t let it happen to mine._  
  
I hook my leg over the long wooden bench and clamber in next to Yunho. I look at all the empty green bottles scattered across our table. Seven, ten…twelve? That’s a lot of soju. No wonder I’m drunk. Is everyone as drunk as I am? I look around.   
  
Heechul and Kangin are having an earnest conversation to my right. Their heads are close together, their shoulders almost brushing. Their expressions are serious. Huh. What’s that about? To my left, Eunhyuk is slurring out some rambling story to Junsu, who stares straight ahead and nods with glazed eyes. He looks as drunk as I feel. Across the table, Taehyun and his friends are looking at something on his cell phone. From their expressions and the way they glance around guiltily every now and then, I guess it’s nudes. In public? At a restaurant? Tacky. I shake my head. Yunho would never do that. I turn and look at him where he sits beside me. He’s looking at Eunhyuk, brows furrowed in concentration. Trying to follow his story, I guess.   
  
“And then there were these three, no, four, no wait, it was three…three dudes at the audition. Or maybe it was four? Because they wanted to sing _a capella_ , and I think they had parts for four voices… But I mean, you could sing it with three, but four sounds better. So I guess it was four. So these four dudes at the audition…”  
  
“What’s he talking about?” I whisper to Yunho. He turns to me and grins, his eyes tilting into perfect crescent eye-smiles.   
  
“No idea,” he whispers back. “But he’s been talking about it for a while.” He studies my face for a moment. I know from the bathroom mirror that I’m flushed. Alcohol always stains my cheeks deep red. “You okay?” He asks.   
  
“I think I’m drunk. I never drink this much.”  
  
Yunho laughs. “ _Yah_ , don’t think we go out and trash our livers like this all the time. We’ve been working hard this past week. Tonight we needed to get away and let off some steam.” He shrugs. “Go out or go crazy, you know?”   
  
I nod. I know. Everyone knows the pressure Yunho is under as Lee Soo Man’s golden boy. How responsible the dancer is. How hard he practices and studies. And in the few spare moments when he’s not working, he’s hanging out with his friends or dating yet another pretty girl from school. Everyone loves Yunho—and not just because he’s an SM favorite or because he’s obviously going to be a star. He’s just…likeable. I’ve been studying him for months now, watching him interact, listening to how people talk about him. Yunho makes a true and loyal friend. He shares what’s his and respects what’s not. He listens to people’s problems and doesn’t burden them with his. I learned that everyone has a story like mine about “that moment” when Yunho’s kindness made all the difference. All the smiles and waves that had been so meaningful to me were the same ones he bestowed on everyone. I was embarrassed for thinking I was special, that he and I had  _connected_ , when he did the same for anyone.  _Why would someone like him single you out?_  
  
I know what people say about me. I hear the jokes. I’ve heard them my whole life, why would SM be different? And while Yunho is kindness personified, his friends are not. They hide my street clothes while I’m at dance practice. Bump into me without apology in the canteen. Whisper slurs under their breath when we pass in the halls. Just like in school. Exactly, tiresomely the same.   
  
The first time I heard rumors about “Yunho’s girlfriend,” I wasn’t surprised. I hung out with the girl trainees all the time and knew how many of them were head-over-heels for the dancer’s snaggle-toothed smile and easy charm. I wondered which lucky girl he liked enough to risk SM’s wrath for dating a fellow trainee. But when Jinah hesitantly said, “They mean you. You’re his girlfriend,” I felt a stab of pain. Did Yunho think that too? Was that how he saw my attempts at friendship? Was he making fun of me with his friends behind my back? That thought made me feel lonely in a way I hadn’t before. I thought Yunho understood me even though nobody else did. I thought he was different.   
  
I stopped going to his practices after that. Stopped trying to get his attention. I still studied him, his mannerisms and easy interactions with people, trying to figure out what made him so remarkable. What gave him that star quality? But I was careful not to be seen. I watched him from behind magazines I pretended to read or by covertly glancing in mirrors. And still the rumors about me continued.  _Pretty Boy. Girly. Gay._  
  
Worst of all, Yunho didn’t notice. He treated me the same as he always had. He didn’t care that I no longer watched him dance or did my awkward best to befriend him. He didn’t care.  
  
So I was shocked when he poked his head into my practice studio that evening and invited me out with his friends. Of course I said yes. And then immediately ran to my room to get ready. But why me? Why now, after all these months of distracted friendliness? It made no sense.   
  
_Yet, here we are._  
  
“Yunho…”  
  
“Mm?” he hums while drinking from a beer bottle. His head is thrown back, the long line of his throat working as he swallows. “What is it?” he asks, setting down the bottle and wiping his mouth with a sleeve. He raises a dark brow inquiringly. Waiting.  _Stop staring, Jae._  
  
I study the scarred table surface and try to sound casual as I ask, “Why… W-what made you decide to invite me out tonight?” Then I can’t help myself, and I look up at him again.  
  
I’m expecting a shrug and a “why not?”, but instead Yunho frowns and glances down the table at Heechul. He hesitates for a minute, then he looks back at me and says firmly, “I think it’s important that we get to know everyone and understand them. It’s easy to get stuck in one group of friends and not meet new people. And besides, what kind of  _hyung_  would I be if I didn’t take you drinking at least once?” Those perfect eye-smiles again.  
  
It’s the obvious answer, but as always, I’d tricked myself into thinking there was something more. I laugh to cover my embarrassment.  
  
“Of course. But you’re not really my  _hyung_ , you know.”  
  
“What? No way. What year are you?”  
  
“I’m 86.”  
  
“Me too. What month?”   
  
“January.”  
  
“ _Omo_! You really are older. I’m February.” He pauses and narrows his eyes. “But you knew that.”   
  
_Busted._  
  
Then he gasps, his eyes wide and horrified. “I spoke informally to you right away. Why didn’t you say something?”  
  
“It didn’t matter to me. And you are my  _sunbae_.”  
  
Yunho is still upset with himself. “It’s no big deal,” I say.  
  
“I’m sorry, Jaejoong. I truly had no idea. No offense, but you seem young to me. Younger, I mean.”  
  
“People always say that. I don’t know why. Do I act immature or something?”  
  
“I think…” Yunho chooses his words carefully. “I think it’s because you have such…delicate features. You don’t look old enough to shave yet.”   
  
“You mean I look like a girl.”  
  
“Well,  _I_  don’t think that, but…yeah, some people do,” he admits reluctantly. “You know, you’ve got that  _ulzzang_  look and you’re always hanging out with the girls, and with the Best Face award and all, I guess people assume…” He trails off uncomfortably.  
  
“What? Assume what?”  
  
I’ve never seen Yunho look this uncomfortable. He’s rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while a slow flush creeps up his neck. He won’t meet my eyes.   
  
“Oh my god. You’re Yunho’s girlfriend!”   
  
Yunho and I both turn, startled by the interruption. Junsu is pointing at me, eyes wide and mouth agape. He’s snapped out of his stupor, but his head weaves a bit. He’s wasted.  
  
“I knew it was you! You’re that kid with the big crush on Yunho.” He beams, happy with his deductive skills. “I’ve heard all about you. You follow him around the studio, right? And spy on him at practice like a lovesic—“ Eunhyuk claps a hand over Junsu’s mouth, his expression panicked.  
  
“Why don’t we go outside and get you some fresh air?” Eunhyuk keeps his hand over Junsu’s mouth while trying to pull him up from the table. He shoots an apologetic look at Yunho.  
  
Junsu claws at the hand on his mouth. He manages to pull it off and jerk his face away from Eunhyuk. “ _Yah_! What’s wrong with you?” He’s indignant. “We’re  _talking_ , can’t you see that?” He turns back to me.  
  
“Look, you can’t stalk…”  
  
Eunhyuk tries to get a hand over his mouth again. It becomes a scuffle, Junsu batting away his arms and trying to twist out of Eunhyuk’s grasp. He looks like a choir boy, but he’s got the crazy strength of liquor on his side and finally pushes Eunhyuk off him. He turns to me, disheveled from the fight but determined. Everyone at the table is quiet now, watching him.  
  
He plants his hands on the table and leans on his arms to confront me. His expression is hard, serious.  
  
“Listen,” he says, then pauses. A strange look passes over his face. He stares at me.   
  
“Yes?”   
  
Junsu remains silent.  _What does he want?_  
  
“I’m listening,” I encourage him.  
  
Junsu locks eyes with me, leans forward—and vomits all over the table  
  
 

  

 

—)(—

  
  
  
It’s peaceful here by the river. I take deep breaths, filling my lungs with the crisp autumn air. It feels good after the stuffy restaurant. The lights are twinkling on the bridge by the stunning Seoul skyline. I’m still in awe of the skyscrapers and scenery after living in Gwangju for so long. I can’t believe this beautiful city is my home now.  
  
Down by the water, Junsu drapes over the bulwark railing while Heechul pats his back and jokes with Kangin. Everyone else scattered after Junsu’s spectacular puking show, except for Jaejoong. He’s sitting next to me on the bench, huddled deep inside his hoodie. He hasn’t said a word since we sorted the bill, bowed to the furious restaurant owner, and walked the few blocks down here.  
  
_This is my fault. I have to fix this._  
  
“I’m sorry about Junsu. What he said, I mean, not the puke. Well, I’m sorry about the puke, too, but…anyway. He’s drunk. I mean,  _obviously_  he’s drunk, but that’s why he said those things. He’s normally a sweet person and would never—“  
  
“I don’t have a crush on you.” Jaejoong speaks so quietly that I strain to hear him.  
  
“Of course you don’t. I didn—“  
  
“No, I mean I really don’t.” He looks up at me finally. His pale face glows in the moonlight, his drunken flush long gone. “I have a girlfriend.”  
  
“I…didn’t know that.” I’m surprised. Almost shocked. And that’s when I realize that, somewhere deep inside, I  _had_  thought he was gay. Then I’m concerned. “She’s not another trainee, is she? Because SM frowns on us dating. You’ll get into a lot of trouble.”   
  
He laughs shortly. “No, she’s a store clerk. I met her when I was waiting tables. She’s got a thing for  _ulzzangs_.” He shoots me a quick look, his dark eyes glinting. “The funny part is that I’m not  _enough_  of a ‘pretty boy’ for her. But I’m too girly for you and your friends. Yes, I know what you all say about me.” He shakes his head, bitter. “I can never win.”  
  
_Damn._    
  
“Jaejoong, look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry about my friends. Junsu was wrong to say that. It’s not like him. I know he’ll regret it tomorrow. As for the others, I can’t help what they say. But I don’t agree with them.”  
  
Jaejoong looks at the river. His hands are deep inside the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched up around his ears. He looks sad and frustrated.  _I would be, too._  
  
I sigh. “Okay, I admit that a lot of people think you’re girly. And they think that you…like…me because you watch my practices a lot. And maybe, just  _maybe_ , the thought crossed my mind, too. But I invited you to hang out with us tonight because it doesn’t matter. I wanted them to get to know you so they’d stop picking on you. And I thought you might want some guy friends to hang out with. I only see you with groups of girls.”  
  
He shrugs. “I like girls. I’m comfortable with them. I grew up with a lot of sisters, and they always looked out for me. Girls don’t judge you like guys do.”  
  
I wince. I want to argue with him, but I can’t after tonight. The truth is that Jaejoong has had a hard time at SM, and it’s partly because of me. All this time, I thought I was staying neutral and rising above the gossip and insinuations, but he was hearing it all. Having to face it down alone. By not saying anything against it, I encouraged it.  _My fault._  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“I know. You keep saying that.”  
  
“I mean it.”  
  
“I believe you.” He sighs. “But what good does it do? Tomorrow, you go back to being Mr. Popular with your buddies, and I go back to being ‘that kid who has a crush on Yunho.’ Your  _girlfriend_. And everyone will make fun of me like they always do. And nothing will change because it  _never_ changes.”   
  
His voice is loud now, passionate. I’ve never seen him this worked up, all trace of shyness lost to anger. I didn’t know he had it in him. Heechul glances our way, sharp eyes looking for trouble. I wave. It’s okay. He nods and turns back to Kangin.  
  
“No,” I tell Jaejoong, “That’s not true. I won’t let it be true. Forget everyone else. Why can’t we be friends?”  
  
He faces me abruptly. He wasn’t expecting that. “What?”  
  
“Let’s be friends. Just us. We don’t have to hang out with my friends. I get why you wouldn’t want to, believe me.”  
  
He stares at me hard, eyes narrow, like he’s trying to read words written inside my skin. I hold out my hand.  
  
“Friends?”  
  
He looks down at my hand, palm upturned in front of him, and then back up at me. In the dim light, his face looks like a porcelain mask: smooth and blank. Then he smiles and it transforms him. He’s incandescent, lit from within by happiness. It hits me then how often he looks sad or withdrawn.  _That’s going to change._  
  
He places his soft hand in mine, and we shake. “Friends.”


	2. I Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the day after the night before and everyone’s hungover. Jaejoong doesn’t know what Yunho meant when he said they could be friends, but it wasn’t this. What happens when he gets more than he hoped for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: This chapter turned out to be all Jae, but the next one will be almost all Yunho. I guess that makes it fair. As always, comments are appreciated. ^^

* * *

 

 

 

The next day, things get weird.

I’m outside the practice room studying sheet music for my lesson that week when Eunhyuk turns the corner into the corridor. There’s no one around but the two of us. He stops for a moment when he notices me, staring at me down the length of the white-tiled hall. My stomach knots.  _Uh-oh._

He’s never acknowledged me at the studio before. None of the guys do, especially not the group Yunho hangs out with. I sometimes joke around with Jinah that I’m SM’s only resident superhero, Invisible Boy, because everyone looks right through me. Not a very funny joke, I guess. But it dulls the hurt.

But today is different.

Eunhyuk walks right toward me, his face set with grim purpose. For a moment, I consider darting into the practice room to hide.  _Don’t be silly._ What am I afraid of? He won’t do anything. He never does. But the memories of last night are fresh in my mind: Junsu humiliating me and the chaos that followed. Eunhyuk tossing money at Heechul before running out the door. Somehow, it’ll be my fault.

He’s a few steps away now. I clench my fingers onto the music sheets, waiting for him to pass so I can relax. But he doesn’t. He stops next me and lifts his hand in a brief wave.

“Hey.”

 _He means me?_  I barely stop myself from looking to see if he’s greeting someone else.

“Hi.”

He shifts his weight uncomfortably, and scratches the back of his head, dark hair tufting out behind his prominent ears. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

He clears his throat.

“So…sheet music, huh? Studying for voice lessons?” I think we’re both surprised when he blurts out the words. His awkward inquiry makes me nervous. _More nervous._

“Y-yes. Instructor Lim told me to learn this song for my next lesson.”

He nods. “I had Lim too, last year. He’s a dick if you don’t do your homework.”

Of course he’s had classes with Lim. Most of the trainees here have been working with SM instructors for years. Some trainees my age have had over five years of classes because they were signed by SM when they were only eleven. I started so much later than that, at fifteen. It feels like I’ll never catch up.  _I have to. I have to be_ better _._

Eunhyuk keeps talking.

“Once, I forgot my homework two lessons in a row, and Lim screamed at me for so long that there was no time left for a lesson. He had to give me the same assignment again. I won that round.” He chuckles.

“He hasn’t yelled at me. But I haven’t missed an assignment yet.

 “You’re okay, then. Just remember that his bark is worse than his bite. Who cares about a little yelling? Just apologize and let him get it out of his system.  _Never_  talk back. He’ll tell your coordi.”

My mouth drops open in horror. I can’t imagine the shame of an instructor telling my scary, always-angry coordi noona that I wasn’t practicing. That I wasn’t grateful for this opportunity. What if they made me leave because of it? What would I do if I had to leave SM?  _I’d have nothing._  All my hard work for nothing.  _No._

My fear must show on my face, because Eunhyuk rushes to reassure me. “Don’t worry. Do the work and don’t argue. You’ll be fine.”

I nod, but I can’t answer. I’m speechless as the possibilities of having to leave SM run through my head. I feel the sharp prickle of tears starting and look down so Eunhyuk won’t notice. But he does.

“Crap. Don’t be upset,” he says. He holds a hand toward me, palm out, like I’m a skittish horse he’s trying to calm. His eyes are wide and anxious. “It’s okay. Lim’s not going to do anything. You’ll be fine.” He runs his hand through his hair again, agitated.

I nod to placate him, and his body sags with relief.

“Well… I should go. If you’re okay.” Eunhyuk shoots me an uncertain look. “I just wanted to say hi.”

I nod again. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay.”

We’re both nodding our heads at each other. I feel like an idiot.

“Okay. I’ll leave first then.” Eunhyuk gives a slight bow and then catches himself, bemused. He walks backward a few steps, waves, then turns and all but sprints down the hall toward the stairwell. He’s clearly thrilled to get away.  _Weird._

And then it hits: the unreality of having a conversation with someone who’s ignored me for the last eight months.  _What_ was _that?_

He’s not the only person who suddenly gains the power to see me. Taehyun and his big bruiser friends actually walk around me in the canteen for once, instead of trying to walk through me. I could swear that Taehyun even gives me a slight nod. Later on, when I drop a notebook in the hallway, Kangin stops to pick it up. He hands it to me without a word, but I’m shocked that he didn’t just walk past like everyone else. Overnight, I’ve gone from being the unspoken pariah of the studio to being treated like I’m…human.  _Normal._  With all my dreams of being special, of being a star, I never thought “normal” would make me so happy. But it does. That sick feeling of dread I get in the pit of my stomach while walking down the halls is gone, replaced with a weird feeling of…relief. Not happiness, but the absence of unhappiness. Now I understand the old saying: “Kick a dog enough, and it loves you for stopping.”

But the sudden change makes me paranoid. It all seems too good to be true—especially for my life—even though I’m sure I know the reason.  _Yunho._  I want to see him, talk to him. I still have his schedule memorized. I know exactly where he is right now and what he’s doing. It’s tempting to wander by his dance practice and see him. How will he treat me? Are we really friends now? My heart beats faster at the thought.

 

—*—

 

The answer comes later that afternoon.

I’m in one of the listening booths at the music library, trying to figure out what Instructor Lim means by a “reverse beat,” when I hear a knock. I look up. Heechul waves at me through the glass window of the booth. He points to himself and then into the small room where I’m sitting, mouthing, “Can I come in?”

I nod.

The padded door swings open, but instead of Heechul, Junsu stumbles in like he was pushed. Heechul stands behind him in the doorway, dusting his hands.

“Hello, Kim Jaejoong. Lovely to see you again. You’re looking well.” He smiles wickedly. “I’d  _love_  to stay and chat, but this one here,” he nudges the miserable Junsu with his foot, “needs to talk you privately. We’ll have to catch up some other time.”

He pushes Junsu farther into the room and grabs the door handle. “I’ll be over at Starbucks if you need me. Have fun, kittens.”

He starts to pull the door shut, but Junsu whips out a hand and grabs the edge of it. He gives Heechul a pleading look. Heechul’s amused face sets into a stern expression as he yanks the door free of the boy’s grasp. But his voice is not unkind when he says, “Come find me when you’re done.”

With a last fluttering farewell wave of his fingers, Heechul pulls the door firmly shut. Junsu and I are alone in the small booth.

For a moment we freeze in place, eyeing each other. I sit at the small carrel covered with sheet music and CDs while Junsu huddles against the door like a trapped animal. He looks so wretched that I feel my lips twitch into a smile. I have to stifle a nervous giggle that bubbles up inside me.

Junsu is wearing an oversized tan jacket and baggy jeans. He looks lost in them, like a little kid. Long bangs curtain his face, obscuring everything except his cheeks and mouth. He naturally has chubby cheeks, but today his whole face looks puffy. His lips are chapped and raw. He doesn’t look good.  _Hungover._

He stands there unmoving, hiding behind his hair. Visibly wretched.  _What should I do?_  Whenever I see him around SM, he’s always smiling and happy. Cheerful by nature. Nothing like the pile of misery before me right now. For some reason, that makes this situation easier for me. I’m not nervous around him. The silence stretches out as neither of us speaks. Is he waiting on me?  _I have to say something._

“H-how are you feeling today?” I venture.

He shakes away his bangs and looks at me.  _Finally!_  His eyes are bloodshot and swollen. “I feel like I want to die,” he groans. “Worst hangover of my life.”

“I’m not surprised. You had a lot to drink. Although,” I hesitate, trying to find a diplomatic of saying this, “you did get some of it out of your system last ni—“

“I threw up my  _soul_ ,” he moans. He leans back against the door, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. “It was like an exorcism. It just…exploded out of me.”

I can’t argue with that. It wa _s_  like a scene from a horror movie. The screaming. The panic.  _The smell_.

He starts to tell me about the rest of his night, which apparently involved the bathrooms of several friends’ houses, more vomiting, and long lectures from Heechul about the evils of mixing liquor. I don’t know if it’s the gloomy way he tells the story or his air of indignant suffering, but I struggle not to laugh. He acts like he’s the lead in a Shakespearean tragedy, but…it’s a hangover. From what I’ve heard of Yunho’s friends, it can’t be his first.

“And then it was five in the morning! I wanted to sleep—or do  _anything_  except move or vomit for a change—but noooo! Heechul said I needed to walk it off. I remember him dressing me in a  _hamtaro_  costume—he said it was for warmth, but does that make any sense?” A pause. “I think he took pictures.” Another pause. “And then he made me walk around for blocks and blocks until I thought I was going to die. Maybe I did die. Maybe I died and this is hell.” He looks up at me with his red-rimmed eyes. “But then why are you here? What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing.”

“No, of course not,” he sighs. “Only me. I’m the guilty one.” He shakes his head. His animation of the past few minutes dies, and he looks miserable again. He draws a deep breath and bows. A deep, ninety-degree bow.

“Please accept my deepest apologies for my thoughtless words last night. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. You were drunk.” I laugh, bitter. “At least you had the decency to say it to my face.”

He straightens from the bow with a flushed face. “It was wrong of me. I should know better than to believe rumors like that.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Yunho explained the truth to me this morning.”

“The…truth?”

“How you were just trying to make friends. That you have a girlfriend.” He beams. “That you’re not… _you know_.” He whispers the last words and, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I do know.

My voice shakes when I speak.

“No. B-but so what if I was? People can’t…they can’t help how they’re born.”

Oh my god.  _Did_ I _say that?_   _What are you doing, Jae?_  I never argue with people. Nerves silence me, always. But for some reason, I’m not afraid to speak my mind to this sweet-faced boy. He doesn’t scare me.

Maybe because he’s a hungover mess.

He’s instantly alarmed by my words, waving his hands frantically in front of him.

“Oh, no no! It’s not like that. I’m not judging. Only God can judge. All I’m saying is…” he stops, searching for words. Then he continues earnestly. “Yunho’s straight. As straight as you can get, you know? And I thought you wanted something from him he couldn’t give. That kind of one-sided love isn’t good for anyone. Not you. Not him. It’s a burden. That’s all.”

Then he smiles, his first genuine smile, and it transforms him. His whole face brightens. Despite his haggard puffiness, I see why the girls call him their “angel  _oppa_.” He pushes off from the door and advances a step into the room.

“But you’re not, so who cares? And Yunho says we should try to get to know you. So let’s try, okay?” He extends his hand.

 _I knew it._  Yunho  _had_  said something. I feel warmth curl inside me, low in my stomach. The first, faint glow of happiness. This was more than I’d dared hope. I never dreamed that Yunho would try to bring me into his circle. He said we could be friends, and I’d hoped that he meant it. But I didn’t think that meant being accepted by his group. A wave of elation courses through me as I picture Yunho sitting them down to talk about it.  _He kept his word_. I’m giddy.

I smile back at Junsu and quickly clasp his outstretched hand.

“Yes. Let’s try.” We shake. I can’t stop smiling.

“Good. I’m glad we worked it out. That’s one less thing for Heechul to torment me about from last night.” He widens his eyes. “ _Yah!_  Let’s go to Starbucks and make him buy us lattes. He owes us something for locking us in here. And being so mean to me last night.”

“You should ask about the  _hamtaro_  costume while you’re at it.”

“Yes! You’re right. He has a lot of explaining to do,” he huffs indignantly. “Let’s go.”

He grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the door. I barely have to time to stack my papers and grab my book bag before we’re racing down the stairs and across the street to Starbucks.

We spot Heechul at a table near the back of the café. He’s sipping from a tall takeout cup and gesturing with languid hands at his companion. With a jolt, I realize it’s Yunho. Junsu beelines over, towing me behind him. As soon as we get there, the fierce cherub lays into Heechul

“ _Yah!_  Did you take perverted pictures of me last night?”

“Mmm. Maybe. What of it?” Heechul raises a challenging eyebrow.

It’s on. The two start bickering.

Yunho watches them argue, a fond look on his face. When he turns his affectionate gaze on me, I feel like I can’t breathe. His warm smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to stay in this moment forever, curl up inside it, warming my cold soul at Yunho’s kind heart.

_He can never know I lied about having a girlfriend._

 

—*—

 

I fall to the studio floor and lie there on my back, staring at the ceiling. My wet hair sticks to the sides of my face, and my shirt is drenched with sweat. I can feel perspiration trickling down my sides and dripping off me.  _Great_. I’ll probably leave a Jae-shaped stain on the slick wooden planks underneath me. Maybe I can make a snow angel in my own sweat.

I’m distracting myself with disgusting images so I won’t have to think about my dancing.  _It’s bad._

My training has been coming along well, for the most part. I’ve been at SM for almost ten months now. Long enough to start seeing real improvement. My singing is much better, even though my voice isn’t reliable yet. Sometimes I can hit the note I want; sometimes I can’t.

“It’s the last gasp of puberty,” chuckles my singing coach. “You’re luckier than most. Some singers lose everything to adolescent hormones. But you had a pretty voice going into the change, and I think it’s going to be beautiful coming out.”

I hope he’s right, because there’s no way I can fall back on dancing as a career.

It’s not that I don’t understand the moves. I’m actually pretty good at memorizing the routines and getting the steps right. But my talent ends there. I look awkward performing: lost and flailing around. Nobody wants to dance next me during practice because I’ve been known to tromp on feet, poke eyes, and knock people down. Once, my watch got caught in EunAe’s hair and the entire class stopped dancing to watch us untangle it.  _Humiliating._

A shadow falls over me where I lie gasping on the floor. Yunho stands above me, hands on his lean hips, disapproval on his face.

“Taking a nap?”  _Sarcasm._

I look up at him with resentment. He’s the reason my dancing sucks. Rather, he’s the reason I’m painfully aware that my dancing sucks. Why does he have to be so good at everything? He’s a talented singer and a credible actor. His charisma is legendary. And he dances like a god. Every motion is sharp and precise. He hits the moves hard, but adds an extra bit of flair that’s uniquely  _him_. He puts his signature on every move he makes. I could look at a line of dancers in identical outfits and masks and instantly recognize Yunho just from the way he moves. His dancing is brilliant. Graceful. Effortless.  _It comes so easy to him._

Even now, after dancing with me for the past hour, his breathing is even and there’s not a drop of sweat on his handsome face.

_Damn him._

“We mere mortals have to take breaks sometimes. We can’t all be perfect.” I’m mostly kidding, but something of my bitterness seeps through, because he narrows his eyes and swings one leg over to stand straddling my body. He bends over to peer at me. His expression is stern.

“Perfect? I’m nowhere near perfect. But at least I keep trying,” he says. “We can stop anytime you want. But you told me you wanted to get better. Maybe not kick the other dancers in the shins so much. Or make the girls play  _kawi-bawi-bo_  to choose who’s stuck partnering you. Maybe stop getting passed up for showcases.”

I look away, unable to hold his steady gaze. He’s right. I need to step things up if I don’t want to end up a studio singer. You have to be a triple threat to get chosen for an SM group: singing, acting, and dancing. Not to mention modeling. And variety show talents. At a different entertainment studio, I might get by on my voice alone, but not here. The competition’s too fierce.

And Yunho’s only here as a favor to me. I’m the one who went to him and begged for help with my dancing. Busy as he is these days, dancing backup for Shinhwa, he still finds time to come help me every week. He knows my routines better than I do now.

I look back up to where he hovers over me. “I’m trying. I think you have a skewed idea of how hard it is because you’re…you. Dancing’s your gift. It doesn’t come natural for some of us like it does you.”

He straightens and gazes down at me for a moment, noting my frustration. Then he extends his arm to help me up.

“Come up here. Come on. Let’s try something different.”

I give him my hand, and he hauls me to a standing position. “Stand right there,” he says. “And close your eyes.”

 _What’s he up to?_  But I trust him, so I shut my eyes. I hear his footsteps going over to the storage shelves on the side wall. There’s some clacking and shuffling as he moves something around on the shelves, then I hear the unmistakable whirring sound of the CD drawer sliding open and closed. After a moment, I hear the soft opening notes to Shin Seung Hun’s  _I Believe_. I roll my eyes behind my closed eyelids, glad that Yunho can’t see me do it. Of course it’s  _I Believe_. Yunho’s obsessed with that Sassy Girl movie.

The music is loud enough that I don’t hear his footsteps coming up behind me, and I jump when his hands rest on my shoulders.

“Shhh. Relax,” he says. He stands close behind me, pushing down on where I’ve hunched my shoulders in surprise, gently easing the tension until my arms hang limp. I take deep breaths, trying to force my body to relax, but my heartrate is picking up with Yunho’s touch. His chest is so close to my back that I can feel the heat radiating from him through the soaked cloth of our t-shirts. I usually don’t notice how much taller he is than I am, but now I’m aware of his breath stirring my hair as he gently massages my stiff shoulders. Every cell in my body is aware of every cell in Yunho’s body, like they’re connected by invisible threads. A quick pulse of heat throbs low in my belly _._   _Uh-oh._

“What are you doing?” I blurt out, breathless.

“Making you relax?” His voice sounds calm. Normal. Unaffected by our closeness.  _Of course he’s not._  He’d be horrified to know the effect his innocent contact has on me. I’m ashamed of my own physical reaction. I start to pull away, but he drops his hands and steps back.

“Okay, now keep your eyes closed and start dancing. No, don’t open them. Move your body.”

I shuffle my feet in a few steps, trying to match the slow beat of the music. It’s disorienting trying to do my routine without looking in the mirror. I can’t tell if I’m doing it right or not.  I feel stupid. Frustrated.

“I don’t get what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’re supposed to dance.” The whisper comes right by my ear. A shiver runs through me.

I sense him move around to stand in front of me. He runs his hands down my arms, a feather-light brush of skin, then clasps my hands with his.

“Take deep breaths. Keep your movements slow and loose. Dance to the melody. Feel the song.” He whispers soft words of encouragement as he holds my hands. We sway in a slow rhythm as the song plays:

 _“Was the world dazzling before I met you_  
_Underneath that sky…”_

What felt dumb when I did it alone is magical with Yunho. It’s almost like we’re slow dancing together. It feels  _romantic_. I savor the moment, my senses greedily taking him in: the rough skin of his hands on mine, their warmth. His low voice rumbling under the music.

I crack my eyelids the tiniest bit and peek at him through my lashes. He’s standing an arm’s length from me, dreamily swaying with his eyes closed. The wall behind him is painted to look like a blue sky, so his face floats among the clouds, serene and sweet.

 _“You are the only reason_  
_That waiting gives me enough happiness…”_

I’ve openly studied the way Yunho moves—god knows everyone does—but I’ve never had the chance to look my fill at his face before. Not without him knowing. Now I seize my chance, my thirsty gaze drinking in every small detail of him and storing it away for later.

For the first time, I’m free to admire the elegant wings of his collarbones, with that deep dip where they meet. When he’s been dancing for a long time, moisture pools there like in a tiny cup. The skin on his long neck is smooth and baby fine, but his jawline is hard. Baby fat still plumps his cheeks, but you can already see high cheekbones pushing through. There’s a small scar by his nose from when he fell as a child. And his  _mouth_. His lower lip is…

“I see you peeking, Jae.” He opens his eyes and looks at me.

My heart stops for a second, and I stiffen.  _Caught._  Caught staring at his lips. I open my mouth to offer an excuse, say  _anything_ , but embarrassment washes over me in a hot wave, staining my skin red and stealing all thought.

He drops my hands, and we look at each other. His face is expressionless, his dark gaze steady and unreadable. I’m sick with shame and fear.  _It’s over._ Our friendship is over. He’s going to walk out of here and tell everybody, and I’ll be “Yunho’s girlfriend” again. I’ll get bullied and ignored, and my life will go back to the misery it always was before Yunho. He’ll never smile at me again, or nudge me with his shoulder when he’s joking, or call me  _chingu._ He’ll be gone.  _I can’t bear it._

I’ve known all along that I’m not good enough for him. I know I don’t deserve his friendship. Part of me has expected it to end from the moment we first shook hands. Part of me has been waiting for the day that Yunho finally gets tired of me or finally sees me for the loser I really am and turns away. Why would he stay? I gain the world by being friends with Yunho, but what does he get? What’s in it for him that he can’t get from a million other people? And what I can offer, he doesn’t need. At night, I often lie awake thinking about what Junsu said. About the trouble with one-sided love.  _My feelings are a burden._

We’ve been standing there staring at each other for what feels like an eternity, but probably hasn’t even been a minute. Tension slows time down to a crawl. Then Yunho’s voice breaks the silence.

“How do you feel?” His tone is casual.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Are you relaxed now?”

 _Is he joking?_ My heart is hammering in alarm, I’m bright red with shame, and so scared that I feel sick to my stomach. I look at him in disbelief.

He looks back at me and raises an eyebrow, an arrogant quirk he’s picked up from Heechul. But his expression is inquisitive, not angry. Can I be that lucky? Did he really not notice? Or maybe he wants to pretend that nothing happened? Either way is fine by me. I’m weak with relief.

“Yeah, I feel good.”  _A major lie._

“Good. You needed it. You lose focus when you’re stressed out.”

“Yeah.”

“But then again, you lose focus for choreo even when you’re  _not_  stressed out.” He shoots me a teasing grin.

I nod.  _Whatever_. I’ll agree with anything he says right now.  _Please please please let’s just be normal again._

He backs up a step, turning away.

“Let me put the practice track back on and we—“ He stops. He’s staring over my shoulder with the strangest mix of emotions on his face: shock, excitement, fear, respect. I turn to see what he’s looking at.

Lee Soo Man stands in the doorway.


	3. I.O.U.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho and Jae get assigned to new groups. Jae gets called to the CEO's office and leaves with a secret. A hard practice leads to trouble for Yunho. And, oh yeah, there’s aegyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be traveling for a week, so I pushed this chapter out in a rush. It's not as polished as I'd like, so please forgive the typos. I'll clean it up when I get back. As promised, this chapter is all Yunho. I dialed back on the details so that I could move the story along faster. We have a LOT of ground to cover, and I’m just wrapping up the backstory. OTL  
> But next chapter, big things start happening!  
> Comments are appreciated. ^^

* * *

 

 

I follow Lee Soo Man into his office. No matter how many times I come here, I’m always awestruck. The room is designed to impress. Curvy modern furniture dots the long, gleaming expanse of marble floor. The walls are covered with awards, framed articles, and pictures of the many successful SM groups: H.O.T., S.E.S., Shinhwa, BoA.   _I’ll be up there someday._   At the far end of the room, in front of a vast arched window, the CEO’s ebony desk rests on dais. It’s always spotless. I’ve never seen so much as a folder or a scrap of paper on its polished surface. Wherever he does his work—and he definitely works—it isn’t here.

“Have a seat, my boy,” he says, walking toward a small lounge area. He settles on an S-shaped chair and gestures for me to come over. I incline my head and follow his direction, sitting on a plum-colored couch. It looks plush, but the cushions are stone hard. I gingerly scoot out to the edge of the seat and rest my hands on my knees.  _Manners._

“Are you thirsty? Looks like you were having quite the workout with…what’s that boy’s name?”

“Kim Jaejoong _.”_

“That’s right, that’s right. The vocalist. I hear he’s got a good voice, but the rest…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ll ring for tea. Or maybe some juice?”

“Nothing, thank you,  _Seonsangnim.”_  I hesitate, but then I have to speak up. “Please forgive me for saying, but Jaejoong is better than you’ve heard. He’s come far since he started. I’ve never seen anyone try so hard to improve.”

Surprised, _Ssem_  Soo Man studies me through dark-framed glasses. I know from experience that his shrewd gaze misses nothing. “You two are close? I didn’t realize.”

“We became friends a few months ago. The others were picking on him because…because he looks feminine. I thought it was unfair. So I make sure no one bullies him anymore. And I try to help him with his dancing. I have a responsibility as his  _sunbae_.”

The chairman nods. He looks at me thoughtfully, his seamed face unreadable. But when he speaks his tone is mild, approving. “You’re a born leader, my boy. I’ve expected great things from you since you started here, and you haven’t disappointed me.” He laughs. “Good thing, too. How could I face your parents if I had to end your training? Eh? Your pretty mother would never invite me over for her wonderful dumplings again.”

I grin.  He’s in no danger of being excluded from family gatherings, and he knows it. My family has known Lee Soo Man for years. He and my father have been fast friends since college. One of my earliest childhood memories is climbing on his lap to get a piece of candied ginger. (And then crying and spitting it out when all the sugar was gone and the sharp taste hit me.) My sister and I would perform at family dinners, singing or acting out skits. Awful, childish stuff, but “Uncle” Soo Man always praised us and clapped harder than anyone.

He encouraged my parents to get me proper dance instruction and defended me when I announced that I wanted to dance professionally. My father was devastated. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps as a lawyer.  But it was hard to argue with the success of  _Ssem_  Soo Man’s company or the fame of his performers. And when he promised to personally look out for me and my career, my father caved and let me have my dream. I owe everything to Lee Soo Man.

“But I didn’t ask you here to talk about your  _umma_ ’s cooking. I want to know how things are going with you. How do you like dancing with Shinhwa? They treating you right?”

“Yes, of course,  _Ssem_. I’m learning a lot from them. You were right about their showmanship. They have incredible stage presence! When I watch our shows on TV, I’m impressed by how they connect with the audience in a thousand small ways.”

“You see that, eh? Good. That’s star quality. It’s the one thing I can’t teach here. You either have it or you don’t.” He gets up and starts to pace in the small lounge area, hands in his suit pockets. “Sometimes you can coax it out of hiding with enough training. Sometimes a solo performer is lackluster, but put him in a group and  _pow_! Magic.”

He stops pacing and stands in front of the couch, emphasizing his next words. “That’s what I do. That’s my job. It’s what project groups are for. I rearrange the pieces into different combinations until I find  _it_. Lightning in a bottle. The true stars.”

I nod at him. I know exactly what he means after watching Shinhwa. There’s something about the six of them together that just…works. The group is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s magical.

“What about you? Do you have it? Star quality?” The questions come out of nowhere.

“I, uh, I…” I stumble over my words, not knowing how to respond. To say “yes” is arrogant. To say “no” implies I’m hopeless.  _What do I say?_  He’s waiting for my answer, eyes watchful glints behind his glasses.

“I think… I think you’re a better judge of that than I am,  _Seonsangnim_.” I bow my head, waiting for his judgment.

He throws back his head and laughs, a full belly laugh.  _Good sign_. I relax.

“You’re your father’s son, alright. A very diplomatic answer!” he chuckles some more. “But come now! Be honest. Don’t you want your turn in the spotlight? Aren’t you tired of being stuck in the background of someone else’s show?”

_Yes._  I want it so bad I can almost taste it. I’d kill to be center-stage. But I know better than to say that. “I trust your decisions,  _Ssem_. I know you’ll move me up when I’m ready.”

He reaches down and pats me on the shoulder, clearly satisfied with my answer.

“Good lad. Your modesty is commendable. It’s true that you’re not ready yet, but you’ve improved. I hear good things from your instructors. Keep it up!  Your time will come soon. Still missing a few pieces, but it’s almost there. Be patient.”

“Of course,  _Ssem_.”  _What other choice do I have?_

I sense that our interview is over, so I stand up. He walks beside me to the office door, hand on my shoulder.

I bow and turn to leave. He calls some parting advice after me as I walk down the hall. “Take care of yourself. Work hard! And watch your friend, eh?”

_What does that mean?_

 

—)(—

 

It’s the start of a new year, and everyone’s back at the studio after holiday break. We’re gathered for the annual special assembly, when SM announces changes to the project groups. It’s rare that all the trainees are together at one time like this and you can feel excitement in the air. The auditorium is the biggest room at SM, but we’re still packed in, pressed up against each other and chattering away. So many talented people in this room, but only a few will be stars. I look around the room in wonder.

To my left, Heechul and Kangin are talking to a group of girls. I know most of them from dance classes, and Jung Minseo was my partner for a showcase once. I squeeze through the crowd to their group.

“Yunho!” Minseo clutches my arm and pulls me in close to her side. She’s a pretty girl, with an oval face and smooth, dark hair. Today’s the first time I’ve seen her wear it down in months. In fact, all the girls look nice today. Trainees usually dress in sweats or practice clothes, hair tied back or hidden in caps, exhausted from school and work. But today we’re wearing the new clothes we got as holiday gifts and are energized from our break. There’s a festival air to the assembly.

“I like your hair like that, Minseo. You should wear it that way more often.” I give her my best charming smile.

She rolls her eyes and swats my arm, but I think she’s secretly pleased. “Like you’d notice if I did.”

“What? How can you say that?” I place my hand over my heart, mock wounded. “You know that I treasure every glimpse of you I get.”

“Yunho Yu-don’t,” she jokes.

“Please stop,” Heechul interrupts with a pained expression. “Your mating ritual is an insult to our intelligence. And with Kangin here, that’s really saying something.”

“ _Yah_! Why are you insulting  _me_? What did I do?” Kangin looks indignant. The girls laugh.

As they continue bickering, I look around the packed room for Jae. He was supposed to meet me by the lockers half an hour ago, but he never showed up. I tried calling him, but his phone was turned off. It’s not like him to not even text. But he’ll show up soon enough, I guess. There’s no way he’ll miss this assembly. It’s too important.

The truth is that our excited chatter covers real fear. For every new project group that starts today, for every trainee who gets a shot at a solo career, someone will go home. When SM “rearranges the pieces” to find that elusive winning combination, there are some pieces that just don’t fit. For some, today will end in Lee Soo Man’s office with his “Sorry, mate” speech and a contract termination.

Everyone’s praying it won’t be them.

There’s a loud bang at the stage door. It opens, and a group of SM executives dressed in black walk out. They’re followed by the CEO himself. The men walk to center stage and stand behind the podium, hands clasped behind their backs and stony faces staring back at the assembly. It’s an intimidating sight. 

 Lee Soo Man strides forward to the podium. He taps the microphone to make sure it’s on, then speaks. “Okay, everyone. Settle down, settle down. Let’s get started.”

The room falls silent. I can feel the tension in the air as everyone focuses their attention on the stage and the man who will decide our fates.

_Where the hell is Jae?_

Like a true CEO, Lee Soo Man opens with some remarks about SM’s rising value in the Korean market and the financial and critical success of its flagship groups. He discusses several new ventures that the company is embarking on and expresses optimism for the economic future.

“Nobody here is going to see that money, so why should we care?” mutters Heechul. “Get to the good stuff.”

“You’re not nervous?” I whisper to him.

“Of course not. No reason to be. Are you nervous, Golden Boy?” He sends me a challenging look. I have to look away. We both know I’m not. And we both know why.  _Golden Boy._

“Shh! Here it comes,” whispers MinSeo.

The CEO is wrapping up his speech.

“Today marks the start of a grand adventure. I see faces here that will be on every magazine and screen in Asia in a few years. But you’ll have to work for that honor.  You’ll have to buy your fame with sweat and pain. Start now, today, with your new projects. Accept your new assignments with grace and look for the promise in each other that we see in you. Best of luck to you all.”

He bows amid loud applause and gestures toward one of the businessmen. It’s Director Gil. He steps up to the podium with a sheet of paper in his hand. The room goes silent as he leans forward to the mike.

“Yes, well, let’s get right to it, shall we?” He reads off the sheet of paper. “First project group, reporting to Instructor Bo: Pak Inyang, Han Soori…” He lists off names, most of them unfamiliar. I recognize Kwon Yuri’s name, though. She’s in a group with Jaejoong’s friend Jinah. I make a note to tell him that when I see him later.

_If_  I see him.

Director Gil continues listing names. I hear Junsu’s name. He’s in a group with Eunhyuk and Sungmin. Interesting. I never would have pictured that combination of abilities.  _That’s why Ssem Soo Man is in charge._

More names I don’t know, and then, “The following project group will report to Instructor Tan: Kim Wooyoung…”  _Ha! That’s Kangin._  “…Kim Heechul, and Jung Yunho.”

The three of us look at each other, jubilant. Then Kangin slaps Heechul on the back, and then we’re all pounding each other on the back and stifling the laughter that bubbles out.  _This is the best_. I couldn’t ask for better members. Together, we might have the magic that  _Ssem_  is looking for. Hope shivers through me.  _This could be it._

As the announcements continue, the crowd breaks into clusters as the new groups gather and start making plans. Today, new loyalties and cliques will form; old ones will be forgotten or ignored. New friendships will form and old friends will drift apart.

Hearts will break.

The trainees whose names have not been called are anxious. They grow more desperate as each group is announced and they aren’t in it. Looking around the room, I see several strained faces, eyes locked on the stage and Director Gil.

“And finally, the following people will report as soloists. Heo Eunhye, report to Instructor Lim. Park Hyunae, report to…”

The list drones on. The atmosphere in the room grows tense as the names tick off. The occasional gasp of relief can be heard after a name is called, but otherwise the crowd is silent now.

There’s movement on my right as Minseo moves forward to stand next to me. Her face is pale and her small hands are clasped tightly together in front of her. White-knuckled prayer. Her name hasn’t been called.

Neither has Jae’s.

I frown.

Director Gil clears his throat. “That’s it for this season’s project groups. If your name was not called, please—“

He’s cut off by Lee Soo Man, who steps forward to whisper something into his ear. The director listens with his head cocked to the side, his expression puzzled and then mildly surprised. He sketches a brief bow to the CEO as he steps back into position. He pulls a pen from his breast pocket and makes a notation on the project list he’s holding, then leans forward to speak into the microphone.

“There has been a slight adjustment to one of our project groups. The following change has been made.”

Minseo’s face next to me blazes with sudden hope. I have my own hope and send up a quick prayer.  _Please god. For Jae._

“Reporting to Instructor Tan: Kim Woo Young, Kim Heechul, Jung Yunho…and Kim Jaejoong.”

_Thank you._ I close my eyes in relief.

There’s a low buzz of confusion. I hear disbelieving mutters all around me. Kim Jaejoong? Why Jaejoong? Shy, awkward, clumsy Jaejoong in the same group with Heechul? And Yunho?

I ignore the grumbling, focusing on Director Gil.  _Now for Minseo._

The director continues. “There are no further changes. If your name was not called, please report to your coordi for information and next steps. Congratulations to our new groups. Please do your best and make us proud.” 

There’s halfhearted applause as Director Gil steps back from the podium and joins the other businessmen. When they turn and start filing out the stage door, the assembly breaks up. The sudden babble of voices is deafening.

Minseo stands next to me, frozen in place.  _Stunned_. Her friends gather around, consoling her. Her face is bone white.

She turns to her friends with a lost expression. “What am I going to tell my mother? Do you how many jobs she worked to get money for my dance classes all these years? How can I face her?” Minseo’s hands are still clenched in front of her, fingers knotted together. I have to look away from her pain.

Heechul nudges me and whispers, “Did you arrange it? Jaejoong joining us. Was that you?”

“No. Of course not.”

Heechul looks at me hard. “What do you think happened, then?”

I shrug, scanning the crowd for Jaejoong.  _Not here._  I try texting him again.

 

_> Where are you?_

  _> I have good news!_

 

No response. I put my phone away.

The assembly room is clearing out. I get a few sidelong looks from people as they shuffle past. Everyone’s whispering.

Minseo is sobbing now. Her friends try to lead her away, but she remains rooted in place.

I know it’s useless, but I try to comfort her. “Minseo, I’m sorry. But this isn’t the end for you. You’re talented. Another agency will pick you up, I know it.”

She looks at me for a moment, tears on her cheeks, and then her face contorts into a snarl. “Does talent matter? Does Kim Jaejoong have talent? Or is he still here because he’s your friend—your  _girlfriend_?

I’m too stunned to speak. Is that what she thinks? Is that what everyone thinks? That somehow SM was influenced by our friendship?  Even if I had that kind of influence, do people really think I’d do something so unfair? Tamper with the system and play with people’s lives?

Heechul steps forward. His face is hard, his tone glacial. “Careful, Minseo. We don’t want to burn any bridges on our way out, do we?”

But Minseo isn’t backing down. “How does Kim Jaejoong get to stay, and I have to leave? I’ve trained for  _five years_ and he hasn’t even been here for one. He can’t dance! He can’t act! He—“

“Enough.” I struggle to keep my voice calm. It’s hard to make me angry, but she’s succeeded. “If they decide that your training is over, then that’s it. There’s nothing anyone can say or do to change that. Not me. Not anyone. If Jaejoong is staying it’s because SM sees potential in him and for no other reason. And if SM says you have to go, then…that’s their decision to make.”

Minseo stares at me defiantly for a moment, then her face crumples and she bursts into tears again. She sobs into her hands and her friends succeed in leading her away. One of them mouths “sorry” over her shoulder as they walk off.

The assembly hall is deserted now. It’s just Kangin, Heechul, and I. I pull out my phone and check for texts. Nothing.  _Dammit, Jae._

 

> _Text me right away when you see this._

  

I flip my phone shut, but keep it in my hand in case it buzzes. I look around the deserted hall trying to process what’s just happened.

“No word from Jae?” asks Kangin. He’s leaning an arm on Heechul’s shoulder, and they’re both watching me closely.

“No. It’s strange. It’s not like him to miss a mandatory meeting.”

“No.” agrees Heechul. “He was probably afraid of what he’d hear. To be honest, I’m  _very_  surprised he wasn’t cut.”

“Don’t tell me you think SM’s decision has anything to do with me.”

“No, I believe you. Well, I believe that you didn’t do anything like ask SM to let Jaejoong stay. But I think you’re the reason he’s still here. If not for you, I think SM would have cut him months ago.”

Kangin agrees. “It was cruel of her to say, but Minseo wasn’t lying. Jae’s a good vocalist, but he’s sure as hell no performer. He freezes up on stage. You know it’s true, Yunho.”

Heechul nods. They’re both looking at me with serious expressions. Waiting.

I sigh.

“Okay. I admit he’s not up to the level he should be.  _Yet._  But he’s getting better. He has a lot to learn, but I think the talent’s there. SM decided to keep him, so they must see it too. And they put us together, so it’s our responsibility to help him succeed.”

“There’s only so much we can do,” protested Kangin.

“Yeah, I don’t know that you can teach someone to have charisma like mine.” Heechul pats his hair theatrically.

“That’s a good thing. Who wants charisma like yours?” says Kangin.

“ _Yah_!” says Heechul, swatting his shoulder. They grapple jokingly, Kangin trying to sweep Heechul’s legs out from under him.

My phone vibrates. I check it. Jae.  _Finally!_

 

 >Library

 

I text back.

 

>BRT

 

I turn to the laughing wrestlers. Kangin has managed to knock Heechul down and is kneeling on top of him, pinning his arms to the floor. They’re not struggling much anymore. Just staring at each other and breathing hard.

“Jae’s in the library. I’m going to tell him the news. Catch you later.”

“Later!” they call in unison without looking my way.

I slam out the auditorium door.

 

—)(—

 

I enter the library and look around for Jae. The lights are dim and the room deserted. Everyone’s left for the day. Books are scattered across the long rows of empty study tables. The carrels stand vacant. The row of listening booths along the back wall are shut down, their doors closed and blinds drawn. I frown and start to turn away.  _Wait. There._  Faint light gleams from under the door of the last booth. I should’ve known. Jae spends hours in that booth, listening to CDs and studying sheet music.  Of course that’s where he is.

I walk over and knock on the booth door.

“Jae?”

There’s no response.

“I’m coming in.”

I open the door and there he is, huddled on the floor by the carrel. A small, forlorn figure in a hoodie and ripped jeans. He sits with his knees drawn up close to his chest, hugging them close with thin arms. When I walk in, he looks up at me with eyes red from crying.

_What’s wrong?_

I drop to the floor next to him, turning to rest my back against the wall so we’re sitting side by side. He looks away from me when I sit and lowers his head onto his arms again. His eyelashes are spiky from his tears. They make a jagged outline against the smooth skin of his cheek when he closes his eyes. Like little inverted crowns. His lips are rosy and swollen. He looks prettier when he cries than most girls do. Not that I would ever tell him that.

He sniffles.

“What’s the matter?”

He shakes his head.

“Jae, tell me. What’s going on? Where have you been?”

He continues to sit with his head lowered, staring at the floor.

“It’s not because you were cut, is it? Because you weren’t.”

He shakes his head. Still not looking at me.

“Jae, come on. Talk to me. If it’s not because you were cut then what is it?”

There’s a long silence, then his muffled voice asks, “Why are you my friend?”

I’m surprised. What kind of question is that? How am I supposed to answer it? I study him silently, trying to figure out what this has to do with his tears.  Did I do something to upset him?

“Tell me.” He’s looking right at me now. His dark eyes searching mine, his starry lashes making them seem even larger than usual. His gaze makes me uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, Jae. How can you even ask that? I mean, why is anyone friends with anyone?”

He continues staring at me. Waiting. I look away, stretching out my legs in front of me on the floor. I don’t want to talk about this. I want to grab Jae, find Heechul and Kangin, and go out drinking to celebrate our new project group.

“Yunho, tell me.”

I sigh.

“Fine. We’re friends because I like you. Because you’re a good person. Because…because you work hard and care about people. I don’t know, a lot of reasons. Look, what’s this all about? Why are you asking me this?”

Jae has been watching me talk the whole time, hanging on every word. When I finish, he nods. He seems satisfied.

“I just needed to hear it from you,” he says quietly. “Sometimes, I think my friendship is nothing but a burden to you.”

“Jae, what the hell? Why would you think that?”

He stares at the blank wall opposite him, his eyes distant and sad. Then he seems to shake it off. 

“I got called to the CEO’s office today.”

_What does that have to do with you being a burden?_ I’m silent, hoping Jae will say more.

“I’ve never been in there before. It’s kind of…overwhelming, isn’t it? My first time there and maybe my last.  _Seonsangnim_  Soo Man told me they’d made the decision to cut me. I thought I was there for the speech. You know, the “sorry” speech he gives…”

“I know what you mean.”

“But instead…” He stops and stares off again, a frown furrowing his forehead.

I’m getting impatient. I feel frustrated that I don’t know what happened so I can fix it. “Instead what? What did he do?”

“He told me that he’d overruled the board’s decision. I could stay and continue my training.”

I nod. “He did. They announced it at the assembly. You’re in the same group with me now. And Heechul and Kangin.”

“I know. He told me,” he whispers, so low that I have to bend in close to hear him. I’m close enough now to smell the clean, soapy scent of Jae’s skin. He really does have a girl’s skin, all polished and pale. Soft-looking. Touchable.  _Wait, what?_  I struggle to bring my thoughts back around and concentrate on what we’re talking about.

_Ssem put him in our project group._

“Did he tell you why? He’s never interfered with the instruction board’s decisions before, as far as I know. It’s kinda weird. Everyone thinks I said something to him, but I didn’t.”

Jae hesitates for a moment, eyes sharp on my face, and then he averts his gaze and looks across the room.  “Instructor Lim spoke up for me. He wrote a letter formally requesting one last chance for me to prove my worth.”

Finally, the missing puzzle piece. Now everything makes sense.

“There! See? I  _knew_  there was an explanation. I mean, what the hell! Why would everyone think that I did something? What kind of person do they think I am?”

“A kind person. And a good friend.” He smiles at me. It’s only a glimmer of his usual bright grin, but it’s a start.

“Yeah, I am a good friend. Who else would sit on this hard-ass floor talking to you when they could be out drinking  _soju_  and having fun?” I nudge his shoulder with mine and his smile gets a bit wider. He ducks his head shyly, but he nudges me back.

But it still doesn’t add up.

“So…wait. If you knew you weren’t cut and that  _Ssem_  put you in our group, why are you upset?”

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I feel like… I don’t deserve to be here. I’m not as good as the rest of you. I got special treatment because of…because of Lim.”

“You’re wrong.” I shake my head emphatically. “Look, I’ve known  _Ssem_  all my life and, believe me, nobody makes him do what he doesn’t want. Especially not in his own company. If you’re here, it’s because he wants you here. And if he thinks you’re good enough to be here, then you have to believe that, too.”

I pull my legs in, and then jump up to stand over Jae. I hold out my hands to him.

“Now, come on. No more tears. Let’s go find the others.”

When he grabs them, I haul him up so we stand eye to eye. He still seems sad, so I hook an arm around his neck and drag him toward the door. It’s nothing a little  _soju_  won’t cure.

 

—)(—

                       
 

 “And a 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8…”

The beat drops, and I fall into the familiar steps of our choreo. I check my performance in the mirror of the practice room to see if I’m giving the moves their proper shape. Looks good. Down the row, Heechul and Kangin are doing well, too. Heechul’s a little sloppy, but I know that he can do better if he wants. And then there’s Jae…

He missed a step somewhere, and now his whole routine is off the beat. He steps forward when we move to the side. When we slide together to create a single column, he slams into Kangin.

“Watch it, Jae.”

Jae tries to bow in apology while keeping up with the steps, but he’s so out of synch now that it’s comical.

“Okay, stop. Stop.” I end the farce.  We stand there panting. Jae looks humiliated, his face and neck red with shame. He spends most of our practices looking like a cooked lobster. I know it’s hard on him, but to his credit, he’s never once complained.

Heechul huffs in exasperation and gives me a pointed look. I give him one right back. This isn’t all Jae’s fault. We’re all making stupid mistakes right now because we’re exhausted. We’ve been running this routine for four hours straight. I have the best stamina in the group, but even I am drained. My body feels like it’s weighted with lead and my throat is raw. Almost like I’m fighting the flu.

We’re pushing hard because this is our shot. We all feel it. It’s not just that we’re some of the top trainees SM has right now. It’s the energy we get when we perform with each other. The easy communication and instinctive understanding of what the other members are doing. Everything just  _works_. None of us have said it out loud, but I know we all think the same thing: this is THE group. It’s not just another project group. It’s the group that will make our careers. Deep inside me, hope flutters its fragile wings. I know we’ve got it: star quality.

But right now we need a break. We need to shake off our frustration and reenergize.

“Let’s catch our breath.” I fan myself.  _Hot._  “Why don’t we do something fun?  We could practice our variety show talents. They need work.”

“That sounds good.” I can always count on Jae to back me up.

“Oh god, no bad jokes please!” moans Heechul.

“Well, if they’re that bad, we really should practice them.” My sense of responsibility kicks in.

“No, I’m with Heechul. Nothing seems funny right now.” Kangin wipes the sweat from his face with a towel.

Hesitantly, Jae says, “Well, Instructor Tan said our  _aegyo_  is pathetic. We could work on that.”

We all groan.  _Aegyo_  is the worst. I cringe inside every time I have to do it. But there’s no denying how much the fans love it, so we need to come up with convincing cute acts. Tan called our last attempts “scary” and “freakish.”

Not the effect we were going for.

“Okay, yeah. Jae’s right. Our  _aegyo_  needs work.” I look at Kangin. “You said you were studying dramas for ideas. Did you find anything useful?”

Kangin frowns. “I think so. There was this one move…” He presses his lips together and sucks in his cheeks to make a sort of fish face. He holds his fingers out in peace signs and looks up toward the ceiling.

“That is the most terrifying thing I have ever seen,” Heechul says. “Jesus. What are you even supposed to be?”

Kangin drops the face. He looks disappointed. “Not good?”

“You look deranged. Seriously, don’t do it in public. You might get arrested.” Heechul pats his shoulder.

Kangin slaps his hand away and huffs out an angry breath. “Let’s see yours then.”

“Fine,” says Heechul. He opens his eyes wide and sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth. It’s definitely not cute. It looks like…

“A drag queen.”

“Sorry, but drag queen.”

“Definitely a drag queen.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s not cute?” We shake our heads. No. He’s taken aback.

“Let’s see yours, Jae.” I smile to encourage him.

“Aaah, so embarrassing.” He speaks in a baby voice and puts his fists up to his cheeks, tilting his head. He’s adorable. Then he drops his hands with an awkward laugh, hugging himself and hunching his shoulders.

“ _Yah_! That was good!” Kangin says in surprise.

“It  _was_ good—until you laughed. Then it got weird.” Heechul’s failure hasn’t blunted his criticism.

I’m proud of Jae. That was great. “If you can make the laugh cute, you’ve got something there.”

His face lights up with my praise. He’s desperate to find his niche in the group, to find a way to shine.

“Okay, Yunho. It’s your turn.” Heechul holds up a dramatic hand. “But please, don’t do…whatever that was from last week. I still can’t sleep with the lights off because of it.”

“Ha, ha.” I concentrate, picturing a Japanese ad I’d thought was cute. I make my eyes wide and puff out my cheeks, then I tilt my head to rest it against my upheld hands. Like an angel. I look to see what the others think.

“Good lord. Another week of sleeping with the lights on. You don’t look cute at all.”

Kangin adds, “Yeah, you look like you’re in pain.”

“I  _am_  in pain. My throat is killing me.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Jae is on top of me, all concern. I should have expected it. Ever since the assembly, Jae has mothered me. Making me lunches. Running errands. Doing countless small things to show his friendship. I haven’t stopped him because I sense it’s his way of proving he has value. Almost getting cut from SM wounded him. He hasn’t been the same since it happened. I hope he gets past his insecurity soon and feels like he belongs here.

Now he feels my forehead, a concerned look on his face. “I can’t tell if it’s a fever or not. You’re warm, but you’ve been dancing. You say it’s your throat?”

Jae moves in close, raising a hand to run his pale fingers along the length of my throat. They’re cool on my overheated skin. It feels good.  I arch my neck a little, hoping he’ll touch under my jaw where it hurts most. He’s standing close, murmuring with worry, dark eyes wide. His soft hand slides all over my skin, lightly cupping my nape and then smoothing down along the cords of my throat to rest on my shoulder. It feels  _so_  good. Over Jae’s shoulder, I see Kangin and Heechul shoot each other a look, eyebrows raised. I realize I’m standing there with half-closed eyes letting Jaejoong caress me.  _What’s wrong with me?_  I snap out of my fog and push him away.

My head throbs.

“I’m fine. It’s just a little sore throat. I’m probably just dehydrated.” I grab a bottled water, twist off the cap, and drink.

It’s like swallowing a razor blade.  _Damn_. I try to disguise my pain, but I can’t stop myself from putting a hand to my throat. The glands there feel swollen. Maybe I am coming down with something. That would explain this weird floaty feeling that’s creeping over me.

Jae’s by my side again. His voice is firm. “Okay, enough. At least let the nurse look at you.”

I feel crappy enough now that it sounds like a good idea, but I pretend I’ve let him persuade him.  _A man’s got an image to uphold._  “Fine.”

We say good bye to Heechul and Kangin and head down the back studio stairs to the clinic. It’s not much of a clinic. It mostly dispenses aspirin, ice, and bandages, but there’s always a nurse on duty during studio hours. Jae supports me as I walk, hand coming to rest under my elbow. For some reason, his solicitousness makes me grouchy. It’s not like I’m weak.

At the clinic, the nurse leads us into the private exam room.  I sit on the edge of a low cot while she asks questions: How long has my throat been hurting? When did it start? Do I have other symptoms?  It seems to go on forever. I’m not sure what I say to her. It takes all my energy to keep sitting upright. The gravity in this room seems stronger than usual. It’s pulling at me, sapping my strength. I want to lie down, but the nurse keeps poking at me. She checks my temperature and pulse. Ears, nose, throat. On and on.

Jae watches anxiously.

Finally, the exam is over. The nurse says that my throat is visibly swollen. She suspects it could be the start of an infection like strep or mono. She wants to get me to a doctor. She gives me aspirin. She says more things, but I lose track. The room is wheeling around behind her head, and I’m having trouble processing what she’s saying. Her words are coming from far away.

I feel hands guide me down on the cot, and I almost sob with gratitude.  It feels so good to lie down. My head is throbbing. Something settles over me, the sudden warmth of a blanket. I can’t keep my eyes open.

A voice. “I need to call his coordi and make arrangements. Would you sit with him for a few minutes while I’m gone?” Heels click on the hard floor.

Even with my eyes closed, I can sense Jae next to me. Sitting close. Sparks are spinning in a disorienting way behind my eyelids. I want it to stop. I want everything to stop moving and let me rest. I slide a hand out from under the blankets, groping for something to hold on to. Cool fingers slide between mine, clasping my hand firmly. I smile. I’d know Jae’s soft hands anywhere. His presence anchors me and keeps me from flying off the bed.

I try to thank him, to explain about the spinning, but no words come out.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t try to speak.” I feel something press against my lips.  Just a faint touch, then it’s gone. The room starts whirling around again, harder now. It’s spinning me away with it. The last thing I remember is Jae’s soothing whisper.

“Sleep now. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here.”

 

—*—

  
I’m home when I get the news.

I’d left the studio earlier and walked home through the park, as afternoon darkened to evening. I kept picturing Yunho’s face as he slept on the cot. Even sick—ashen, sweaty, and unconscious—he looked handsome.

And his hand rested in mine so sweetly.

I didn’t leave his side until his parents came to take him away. They were both elegant and well-dressed, with an air of authority. I melted into the background as his mother rushed to the cot. His father barked orders left and right, taking control of the situation. It’s easy to see where Yunho gets his leadership skills from.

There was a flurry of activity as Yunho’s manager, coordi, and the nurse scrambled to do his father’s bidding. Soon Yunho was bundled in blankets, his belongings secured, his file printed out, and his shoes put back on. He was so dazed and limp that they half-carried him to the car. I hung back in the clinic, silent and watchful as they took him away.

Not a good time to introduce myself.

So I walked home. Stopped at the convenience store for dinner, and then walked up several dingy flights of stairs to my one-room apartment. I keep checking my phone for messages, but nothing yet. I try to reassure myself.  _He’s okay, Jae. His family will take care of him._  But I can’t stop worrying.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table distracting myself with math homework when my phone vibrates. A text. Finally! My heart leaps, thinking it’s Yunho. But it’s not. Heechul?  _Weird._  He rarely texts me, trusting Yunho to keep me informed.

I pull up the message from Heechul and for a moment the universe stops. 

 

>Yunho’s in the hospital.

 >Very sick.

 >In surgery.

 

Oh god.  _Yunho._

 


	4. Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jae visits Yunho in the hospital and gets a shock—or two. Yunho‘s struggle to recover makes him rethink his goals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only half the chapter I intended to write. OTL It took longer than I thought because there's some emotional stuff that I want to get just right. Yunjae’s at a turning point, so nuance matters. The good news is that we’re DONE with the backstory. Yay! Things heat up a lot after this...
> 
> I've decided that I'm going to post shorter chapters. Each chapter will be about half the length they've been in the past, but I'll try to post more often. Hopefully, every week. I think that'll be easier for me.
> 
> As always, comments are appreciated. ^^

Heechul and I walk down the long hospital corridor toward Yunho’s room. The ward bustles with activity. Nurses move with swift efficiency between the rooms, while orderlies push carts of medication and linens past patients trundling their IVs. The colorful walls are bright and cheery, but there’s no escaping the sharp smell of disinfectant. Death happens here, and they can’t conceal it.  _I don’t like it_. I wouldn’t be here if not for Yunho. But my need to make sure he’s okay outweighs my dislike of hospitals. My last glimpse of him was in the clinic, watching his face pale as consciousness slipped away. I need to see him. I need to confirm with my own eyes that he’s alive.  _I almost lost him._

 “Do you think it’s okay we came? I don’t want to intrude.”

 Heechul scoffs. “Please. He’ll be thrilled to see us. These are the first open visiting hours he’s had. I bet he’s lonely.”

 It’s been a week since Yunho collapsed in the clinic and had emergency surgery. He almost suffocated on the way to the hospital. The glands in his throat had grown huge from some sort of hormonal problem. He must have been in pain for months without saying anything, because the disease was far advanced. His immune system tried to fight it, but the fever and swelling only made it worse. His throat was completely swollen shut, they said. A close call. A very close call.

He’s better now. And he’s had time to rest, so maybe Heechul’s right. Maybe he’s ready for visitors besides his family.

 I adjust the knot on my gift. A perfect bow. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed, but I couldn’t afford flowers. So I stayed up all night making Yunho’s favorite: strawberry tarts. They should be a nice break from all the bland hospital food he’s been eating.   _I hope he likes them_.

We stop outside a door marked JUNG YUN HO. Heechul goes in first, rapping lightly on the half-open wooden door before entering.

 Inside, Yunho reclines on a railed bed, propped up by a heap of pillows. He’s pale, his hair’s unwashed, and thick bandages swaddle his neck, but his smile is bright. He waves for us to enter. The tension inside me eases, like a hard knot unraveling. My worry vanishes at the sight of his face.  _He’s okay. Breathe._

 Yunho’s elegant mother paces in front of the picture window, talking on a cell phone. A girl with cropped hair and the Jung family features sits by the bed. She’s flipping through a  _manhwa_ , looking sulky and bored. She perks up when we walk in, dropping the comic on the bed and staring openly.

“ _Omo_! What pretty  _ulzzang_  boys. Who are you?” she asks with interest. She’s examining us from our shoes to our hair, lingering on details like Heechul’s embossed belt buckle. I feel uncomfortable, but Heechul eats it up. He gives her a wink.

 Yunho frowns, but says nothing.

 His mother lowers her cell phone and snaps, “Jihye! Mind your manners!” before returning to her conversation. She seems to be talking business. Something about “punitive obligations.”

 Jihye mutters something under her breath, and then looks back at us.

 “I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry. But she speaks formally now. “Please come in. I’m Jung Jihye. This one,” she jerks a thumb at Yunho, “is my brother. You’re friends of his?”

“Yes. I’m Kim Heechul. I’m sure he’s mentioned me.” Jihye looks doubtful, but Heechul sweeps on before she can deny it, “And this is Kim Jaejoong. No relation.”

 He continues to banter with the young girl. I can’t seem to do anything but study Yunho, drinking him in. He’s watching Heechul and Jihye go back and forth, resting his head back on the pile of pillows. He looks tired, and his face is a bit thinner than before. I try not to stare, but my starved eyes are busy cataloguing all the changes in him.

 Heechul is telling Jihye about our project group. “Yunho, why didn’t you tell your delightful sister about us?”

 “He can’t talk.” Jihye ignores the scowl Yunho directs at her.

 “Can’t talk? What do you mean?” She has our full attention now.

“From the surgery. They had to cut away a lot of tissue in his throat, I guess. And there might be some damage to his vocal chords, they said. But it’s too soon to tell.”

I look back at Yunho. He shrugs, lifting one shoulder laconically. His expression is stoic, but it’s hard to imagine that he’s not worried about this.

 “I’m sure you’ll be fine once the swelling goes down,” Heechul reassures him.

 “Of course he will.” Yunho’s mother speaks. She snaps shut her phone case and scrutinizes us.  _Feels like I’m on trial._ Jihye quickly makes introductions. We both bow low. She inclines her head in response. Regal.  

 “It’s nice of you boys to come by to visit so soon. We’ve kept him company since the surgery, but it’s not the same as being with your friends.” She smiles. “Why don’t we leave you alone for a bit so you can chat? I’m sure Yunho wants to hear all the news from the studio.”

She checks Yunho’s bed to make sure he has everything he needs. Her affectionate hand smoothes back a few strands of hair from his wan face. Her love for her son is almost tangible. It radiates from her as she stoops to kiss his forehead and fuss with his bandages. I can tell she’s reluctant to leave him, but wants to give him some space. Respect for his needs prevails. With a last pat on his leg, she turns and picks up her jacket and purse from the table near the window. “Come, Jihye.”

“I want to stay and hear about the studio.”

“I’m sure you do, but you have homework. Let the boys have some privacy.”

 Jihye looks rebellious, but she gets up and follows her mother to the door.

Mrs. Jung smiles at us. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I hope to see you again soon. Have a nice visit with Yunho.” She firmly grasps Jihye’s arm and leaves the room, pulling the reluctant girl along after her.

 “Bye,  _ulzzangs_!” Jihye calls over her shoulder as she’s hustled from the room. “See you again soon!”

 We’re alone with Yunho. We can relax.

 It’s exciting to finally meet Yunho’s family, to get a glimpse of his life outside the studio, but it brings home how different our lives are. His family is wealthy and prominent. He lives in a beautiful house and never wants for anything. His days are filled with people, places, and experiences I know nothing about. That’s his real life, and it happens away from me. Aside from the few hours we spend together at the studio, I must barely register in his thoughts. So much of his daily life has nothing to do with me, yet he’s the most important person in my life.  _Humbling._

 “Whew! Your mother has  _presence_ ,” says Heechul, throwing himself down on the end of Yunho’s bed. “She’s a lawyer, right?”

 Yunho nods.

 “I can see it. I’ll bet she’s cutthroat in court.”

 Yunho shrugs.

 “You really can’t talk at all, huh?” Heechul says, eyeing him. “Not even a little?”

 Yunho shakes his head.

 “For how long?”

 Another shrug.

 “You don’t know? Oh.” There’s an awkward silence as the significance of that sinks in.  _Days, weeks…months?_  How scary to not know. And could it come at a worse time? Our group is getting so good.  Having a member benched would put everyone’s progress on hold. That must bother Yunho, the fear that he might keep us from succeeding. That probably worries him more than his own unclear prospects.

 I try to distract him. “Here, Yunho. I made you some strawberry tarts. I hope they turned out okay.”

 I walk over to the bed and hand the cloth-wrapped box to Yunho. He nods a thank you and smiles. He unwraps the cloth from around the container and pops the lid.

 I don’t have many talents, but I take pride in my cooking skills. It’s the one thing I know I can do well if I put my mind to it. And I worked hard on these tarts. I spent hours decorating them, placing flawless red strawberries atop each tart and piping glaze around them just so. They look delicious, if I do say so myself.

 Yunho examines the pretty tarts nestled in the box, and then looks up at me with a pleased smile. He gives me a thumbs-up. I expect him to pop one in his mouth—he’s never been shy about food—but instead he sets the box on the bedside table without having one. I’m puzzled, but then it hits me: of course he can’t eat them with his injured throat. Why didn’t I think of that? Why didn’t I ask him before making the tarts?  _Stupid. I’m so stupid._

There’s another long silence, even more awkward now. Then Heechul speaks.  _Thank god._

“Well, I for one am not going to waste this opportunity. Here’s our chance to talk without Yunho interrupting to boss us around, Jae. Let’s enjoy it.” He launches into the latest studio gossip, telling stories the way only Heechul can, with snarky asides and devastating personal observations about the people involved.

 Yunho lies back and listens, a faint smile on his face. His eyes are half-closed, his exhaustion apparent. As Heechul recounts a recent scandal where a female trainee was caught in the boys’ dorm after lights-out, Yunho blinks a few times and yawns. I look away politely, checking out the room. 

A private room in a major Seoul hospital. I can’t imagine what it costs. Cards and flower baskets cover every flat surface. The perfume of the flowers almost covers the hospital smell. Almost. A massive bouquet of gerbera daisies and lilies stands on the floor by the bed. It’s as tall as I am. The banner draped around the basket reads “To Our Yunho, We miss you! Get well soon. Love, Your SM Family.” A handmade poster on the wall opposite Yunho’s bed says “Feel Better Soon!” It’s signed in gold glitter by someone named Koh Micha. A pile of wrapped gifts is stacked underneath it on the floor, where Yunho can see it from his sickbed. Yunho’s popularity is obvious. So many people care for him and wish him well. Who would do these things for me?

 “She told the guard that she was in Siwon’s room—after midnight, mind you—to get back the costume he’d picked up by mistake in the practice room earlier. I mean, really! Is that not the worst excuse you’ve ever heard? It fails on so many levels. I like to think of a good lie  _before_  I misbehave, so

I don’t have to come up with a story under pressure…”

 As Heechul speaks, he elbows me in the side to get my attention, then motions his head in Yunho’s direction. I turn to see what he’s pointing at. Yunho’s mouth hangs slightly open and his breathing is deep and even. He’s fast asleep. His face is more serene than I’ve ever seen it. He looks young and, despite the bandages and messy hair, handsome. As always, my eyes are drawn helplessly to his mouth, his soft lips parted and…inviting. I’m obsessed with his lower lip. I often wonder how it would feel to catch that fullness between my own lips, to run my tongue along its lush curve. To feel his mouth press back against mine. Sometimes, I lie awake all night imagining it, too overheated to sleep.

  _No._   _Stop, Jae._  I feel guilty having such thoughts when Yunho is sick.  _It’s not right_. I steal one last glimpse before forcing myself to look away.

 My gaze collides with Heechul’s. He’s studying me in silence, eyebrows raised.

 “Well,” he drawls. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you, kitten?”

 My heart stops. I feel lightheaded, like I might faint. “W-what do you mean?”

 “ _You know_  what I mean.” He shakes his head, amused. “I knew what you were from the moment I met you. You think I can’t recognize my own kind?”

 “Your…kind?”

 “Stop.” He holds up a hand. “Let’s drop the act for once, okay? I know what you are, and I know what you want.” His eyes flicker to Yunho, and he lowers his voice. “You don’t have to pretend around me. I’m on your side, kitten, believe it or not. I’d love to see a happily-ever-after come from this, but, well…you do aim high.”

 I can feel my face burning. This is the most incredible conversation I’ve ever had.  _Heechul knows._ And he doesn’t care. The relief of it hits me. I’ve never told anyone how I feel. That I’m different. Even my family doesn’t know. I thought I’d have to hide it from everyone forever. But Heechul feels the same way I do. He’s like me.  _I’m not alone_.

 “Are there more…like us…at SM?”

“Not that I know of. Oh, there are dancers who’ll beg at your bedroom door late at night, but then the next day they pretend nothing happened. And there are a few boys who can’t be honest with themselves about what they want yet. But I’m not holding my breath while they figure it out.”

 My mind is reeling with this information. I have so many questions I want to ask him.  _Finally_. Finally someone who knows the answers.

As if he reads my mind, Heechul says, “Now isn’t the time for this conversation. I just wanted us to understand each other.”

 He jumps off the bed and claps me on the shoulder. ”Come on. Let’s get out of here. No point staying now. Yunho’s in a happy place. We should be, too.”

He’s right. We should let Yunho sleep. I gather my stuff and follow Heechul to the door. I’m still stunned and burning to ask questions, but I know better than to push it. It’s Kim Heechul. He’ll tell me, or not, in his own time. I glance back at Yunho as we leave the room. He seems enveloped by the huge hospital bed, his drowsing form cocooned in white sheets.

As we step out the door, we almost collide with a young girl. She’s very pretty, with cute features and long, straight hair. Her school uniform looks familiar: gray, blue, and burgundy. Her tiny hands are wrapped around a take-out container filled with hot soup. The liquid sloshes as she moves to avoid us, and she holds it out so we won’t get splashed.

 “ _Omo_! So sorry! I didn’t see you there.” She bows politely, holding the dripping container away from her clothes.

 “No, it was our fault. Sorry about that.” Heechul whips a towel off a nearby cart and helps her wipe down the container. She thanks him with another small bow.

 “Are you visiting Yunho?” she asks.

 “We were. But how can I stay after he fell asleep during my juiciest story? It’s too insulting.”

 The girl laughs, revealing a dimple in her left cheek. She really is cute. “I’m sure he was listening very hard in his dreams.”

 “Don’t make excuses. I intend to hold this over him forever. ‘Never pass up an opportunity for emotional blackmail,’ that’s my motto.”

 “You’re terrible, Heechul.” She shakes her head in mock despair. “With friends like you, it’s a wonder he’s made it this far.”

 “He might make it farther if he listened better.” She laughs. I feel left out. Heechul obviously knows her well.  _Who is she?_

 “Well, I’d better feed this soup to him before it gets cold. It’s hard to find good things he can eat with his throat so swollen.” The jab at my tarts is unintentional, but I feel stupid all over again.

 I hold the door open for her so she can enter Yunho’s room, then close it behind her as she approaches the bed. As we walk down the hall, Heechul is unusually quiet. I can almost see the wheels turning as he thinks. I don’t want to interrupt, but curiosity is driving me crazy.

 “Who was that?” I ask. “That girl.”

 He stops walking and faces me, his eyes soft with sympathy. That’s when I know. I know before he says it.

 “That’s Koh Micha. Yunho’s girlfriend.”

 

 —*—

 

 “This game sucks. I don’t want to play anymore.” Junsu throws his controller down on Yunho’s bed. There’s the sound of an explosion from the TV speakers, then silence. “Aren’t you sick of it too, Yunho-yah?”

 Yunho nods. He sets his controller down and lies back on the bed, folding his arms across his chest. His silence still jars me. He’s so unlike the talkative, outgoing dancer I’ve known this past year. It’s been weeks since his surgery, but Yunho still can’t do more than rasp out a few words before pain stops him. He uses a notepad and pen to communicate, but it’s still strange to me. I can’t imagine how it feels for him.

 Junsu lies down next to him on the bed, cuddling up to his side and resting his cheek on Yunho’s shoulder. I envy the ease of their skinship, the casual affection they show each other. Both of them are quick to touch or hug. Physical expression comes natural to them. Maybe that’s why they’re both such good dancers. Maybe that’s why I’m not. I’m not used to being touched. Not with fondness, anyway.

 It took me a while to get used to Junsu’s exuberant skinship. His enthusiastic hugs come from nowhere sometimes. I like him, and I know he’s only being friendly, but it’s still startling. Yunho seems more sensitive to my discomfort. Even though he’s touchy-feely with all of his friends, he’s reserved with me. He nudges me, pats my back, or touches my arm, but he never wraps me in the warm hugs he gives everyone else. The irony kills me. The person whose touch I crave like oxygen is the one person who respects my boundaries. He’d never snuggle with me the way he’s doing with Junsu right now. He’d never let me rest my head on his shoulder like that. I wish he would _._   _I want to._  I’m so jealous that I have to break it up.

 “What do you want to do?” I ask Yunho. “Want to play a different game?”

He shakes his head.

 “I could read to you,” offers Junsu, bouncing off the bed to stand in front of the lone bookshelf. He paws through the contents of the shelves, calling out suggestions over his shoulder. A bundle of endless energy, that one.

 It’s my first time in the SM dormitory. The suites here are only for foreign trainees and successful project groups. The foreigners can’t get work visas, so they have no way to earn rent money for apartments. And the groups need a place close by the studio where they can crash between shows and promotional trips.

 Dana lives in the girls’ dorm now that she’s performing on the music show circuit. And Shinhwa lived in the boys’ dorm before they bought their own apartment in one of the nearby luxury high-rises. Even established groups have to live together, though. That’s a firm SM rule. Lee Soo Man believes that living together, sharing meals, and working out the million small compromises of daily life form a special bond between members. He considers that bond a critical part of his formula for success. And who knows? Maybe he’s right.  Maybe it does help the members understand each other better and become more attuned to each other’s slightest gesture on stage.

 Or maybe, as Heechul claims, it just saves money.

 And now Yunho has his own room in the dorm. His commute—home to school to practice to speech therapy then home again—proved too much for him in the weeks after his release from the hospital. His parents hired a car service to shuttle Yunho around, but that didn’t help with the dragging fatigue he fought all day. He struggled through practices, pale as a ghost.

 His health is fragile. More than anyone realizes. Twice, I walked into my listening booth at the library and found him passed out cold. He pleaded with me not to say anything, so I didn’t. But I was sick with worry for him. He was pushing his body too hard, too soon. He wouldn’t give himself time to heal.  Then one day he collapsed during afternoon practice and Lee Soo Man offered use of the dorm while he convalesced. Now, Yunho crashes here whenever he gets overtired.  _I’m so relieved._

 When the trainees learned that Yunho was moving into the dorm, there were a few murmurs of “favoritism.” But those were silenced as Yunho lost the drawn look of exhaustion he’d worn for weeks. It’s hard to begrudge him something he so clearly needs.

 And truthfully? The room’s not very nice. It’s small. It’s dark. There’s no view, only the bricks of an inner courtyard. The walls are bare. He hasn’t decorated because he’s not sure how long he’ll be here. But it’s across the street from the studio. And there’s a Starbucks in the lobby.

 “Are these the only books you have? No offense,  _hyung_ , but you should read more.” Junsu has rummaged through the entire bookshelf and found nothing to entice Yunho. “There’s nothing good.”

 Yunho lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

 “What about TV? Want to watch a movie? No? Well, let’s at least put some music on.” Junsu chatters away as he rifles through Yunho’s music collection. Yunho might not have many books, but he makes up for it with CDs.

 “Oh! You have Baby V.O.X.!  I like that one song by them. And Wheesung, of course. And… Eww,  _hyung_ , really? Cherry Filter?” Junsu shakes his head in reproach as he continues to dig through the CD stacks. “Don’t you have any American music?”

 My cell phone vibrates. I pull it out with a frown. Who’s texting me?

It’s Yunho.

>Save me.

 I look over at him. He’s sitting on the bed nodding at Junsu, his phone held face-down against his chest. The picture of innocence.

 I text back.

>What can I do?

 A moment passes, then my phone vibrates again.

>Distract him 

I text.

>Do you want us to leave?

  _Vibrate._

>No

>Want you here

>But so tired

The magic words. Yunho knows how seriously I take his recovery. I try not to fuss over him, but I can’t disguise my worry. That’s also the closest thing to a complaint I’ve heard from Yunho. He must really be frustrated today. I try to imagine how he feels, unable to do all the things he loves. He’s always been active: running, playing sports, training. I’ve seen him dance all afternoon at the studio, then meet friends to play soccer all evening. And now he can’t make it through an hour-long practice without needing a nap.  _Rough._

 The least I can do is help.

 Now Junsu’s complaining about his project group as he shuffles through the CDs. “I mean, we’re an R&B group! Vocals are key, right? I know Eunhyuk’s trying, but it’s not enough. We should be much better by now. I have to hold my voice back so we can harmonize. Maybe it’s because I’m used to singing solo, but…”

 I join Junsu at the bookshelves as he keeps talking. “Why can’t I be in your group? You’re all good singers. I’d love to sing with this one.” He points at me.

  _Here’s my chance_. “Let’s sing together.”

 “Are you kidding? There’s no way SM will let me just switch groups—“

 “No, I mean right now. Let’s sing.” I face the bed where Yunho lounges on his side, head propped up on one hand. “Would you like us to sing, Yunho?”

 Yunho gives a thumbs-up. He looks more animated than I’ve seen him all day. Junsu must notice it too, because he darts me a quick look, then pulls me close to confer.

 “What do you have in mind?” he whispers.

 “Maybe a ballad? Something soothing. I can tell he’s tired.”

 Junsu frowns, thinking. “What about that Position song? “I Love You.” Can you harmonize with that?”

 “Sure. Well, I can try, anyway.”

 He nods. We whisper suggestions back and forth until we’ve worked out who sings what. Then we’re ready to start.  

 Junsu grabs my hand as we face Yunho, court jesters performing for a jaded king. With one last glance at me, Junsu starts singing.

 His voice is exquisite. Pure, sweet, and unwavering. Rock solid. He has the kind of vocal control I can still only dream about. He finishes the first verse alone, and then I chime in on the chorus.

 At first, all I can see are Yunho’s dark eyes. I sing the lyrics to him.

>   _“Do you remember the fluttering_  
>  _That was felt when we first met_  
>  _I love you…”_  
> 

 As I sing, my self-consciousness disappears. The world falls away, and I know nothing but pleasure in the sound of our voices weaving together. I close my eyes.

>   _“_ _We thought our love wasn't possible_  
>  _Because it was so beautiful_  
>  _You approached me like a dream…”_  
> 

Junsu and I keep singing, his voice soaring over mine for the climax of the song, then gentling to a throb on the last lines. As the last notes fade away, I’m hit with the crash of applause. Startled, I open my eyes to see a crowd of people standing in the doorway, clapping wildly, whistling, and shouting praise. It looks like all the trainees on the hall heard us and came to listen. Even the dorm monitor, a singing tutor I recognize from Lim’s class, claps out his approval.

 “That was beautiful. Beautiful!”

 “Better than the original.”

 “You two should always sing together.”

 Junsu and I grin at each other, then bow in thanks to our unexpected audience.

 Flushed and pleased, I look over to share the joyful moment with Yunho. He’s not smiling. Just as I notice that, he rolls his head to face the wall, exposing the raw, red surgical scar on his neck. It looks painful. But before he turns away, I see his expression:  _despair_.


	5. Not Myself

—)(—

 

_So tired_. I drag myself down the hall to the practice room through sheer willpower alone. I feel betrayed by my own body. All these years of doing what I’ve asked of it—more than I asked—and now it resists even the simplest actions. Like walking. How much longer will I be like this? Fighting for every step forward? My doctor says I’m doing well and healing right on schedule. The exhaustion comes from hormonal fluctuations as my glands return to normal. I’ll be feeling like myself in no time, she says. And my speech therapist says that my voice should return within a few weeks, at this rate of recovery.  _God, I hope so._  I can’t fail now. Not when I’m so close to my goal.

 A wave of dizziness washes over me as I draw near our project group’s studio.  Sweat beads my forehead.  I need to rest for a moment before practice, or I’m not going to make it through.  _There._  A row of green chairs right outside the room. I stagger over, almost groaning with relief as I sit. The hall is deserted, so no one saw me collapse, thank god. I don’t want them seeing me like this. This isn’t me.  _I’m not weak._ I can’t wait to get past this ordeal and back to my normal life.

 I tilt my head back against the cinderblock wall and close my eyes.

 Familiar voices drift from the practice room. Heechul and Kangin are already in there, waiting for me and Jae to arrive. They’re speaking low, but every word rings clear in the stillness of the hall.

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but what if it does? We’re falling behind schedule. How much longer are we supposed to wait?” Kangin sounds frustrated.

 “It’s only been a few weeks. It takes time to recover.”

 “I get that. And I want to give him time, but… What if it takes longer than they think? Or what if he doesn’t recover? It happens. How long are we supposed to wait? The showcase is in a few months, and we’re making no progress because of Yunho.”

 My eyes fly open. I’d only been half-listening, but Kangin’s words are a knife in my heart. He voiced my secret fear. I can’t escape the worry, waking or sleeping:  _What if I never get better?_

 I stare at the tiled hall floor, intent on the rest of their conversation.

 It’s quiet for a moment, then Heechul speaks. “We owe him a chance. What if it were you? How would you feel if your members—your  _friends_ —dropped you at the first sign of trouble?”

 “I’m not saying drop him. I’m saying we need a backup plan. If we all asked  _Seonsangnim_ togeth—“

 Heechul’s tone is sharp. “ _All_ of us? Yunho too?”

 Silence.

 “That’s what I thought.” Heechul sighs. “Look, I get it. You’re worried about the future. We all are. Yunho more than any of us. Can’t you see how he’s beating himself up over this? He doesn’t need us piling on more pressure.” He gives a short laugh. “Besides, never in a million lifetimes will you get Jaejoong to agree. Not if it hurts Yunho. Trust me on that. Let’s just wait and see.”

 “Fine.” Kangin sulks. “But my future’s at stake, too. I can’t wait much longer.”

 “You won’t have to. Be patient.”

 “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“No?” There’s a husky undertone to Heechul’s voice that I’ve never heard before. “I thought you liked being told what to do.”

  _What the…what?_

 “Don’t you dare bring that up now _._ ”

 Heechul speaks in that strange, dark tone again. “Am I wrong?”

 A long silence. Then Kangin speaks in a subdued voice, “No. But only sometimes.”

 “Is this one of those times, hmm?”

 Another long pause, filled with faint rustling noises.

 “Stop. Someone might see us.” Kangin sounds breathless.

 “Is that the end of the world? Being seen with me?”

 “It’s not  _you_. You know it’s not. You know why we can’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

 “I like a little danger.”

 More rustling, then a low moan from Kangin.

 My mouth drops open in shock. This can’t be what it sounds like. Is what I think is happening in there really happening? I have to find out. I carefully crane my neck to peek around the edge of the doorframe and peer into the studio.

  _Oh my god._

 Heechul has Kangin backed up against the studio wall, pressing hard against him with the full length of his body. They’re kissing in a frenzy, Kangin’s hands fisted in the sides of Heechul’s shirt, pulling him close. His brows are drawn, eyes closed tight, as they strain together. They’re both breathing hard.

 I want to look away, but I can’t. My mind can’t comprehend what it’s seeing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined.  _Two men_. I should feel disgusted, but I don’t. I feel…wonder.  _It can be like that?_ So different than with a girl. It’s rougher, more  _raw_  somehow.  _Powerful._  Heat flares low in my belly.

 Kangin turns his head, breaking the kiss. He pushes Heechul away. They look at each other in silence for a moment, chests heaving like they’ve just finished a fast routine.

 Heechul wipes the corner of his mouth in an exaggerated way, eyeing Kangin the whole time.

“Nothing to say, my love?”

 Kangin stares at him in bewilderment. “This is crazy. You make me crazy.” He seems stunned by what happened, by his own behavior. “I don’t recognize myself around you.”

 Heechul’s gaze softens. He moves in close so they’re standing face to face. They’re the exact same height, their eyes level. He cups Kangin’s cheek with tenderness and murmurs, “Yes, you do. You’re just afraid to admit who you are.”

 He leans in to kiss him again.

I back away from the door and slip silently down the hall. I don’t want them to know I saw. But my head is reeling. Kangin’s right. This is dangerous. They’re risking everything. Not just success, or the group, but  _everything_. If they’re caught, SM will kick them out for sure. And that’s only the start. They’ll be ostracized by their families. Their friends. All of society. Korea isn’t ready.  

  _I hope they know what they’re_ _doing._

 

—)(—

  

_Not again._  Exhaustion strikes as I push open the door to my dorm room. I manage to toe off my shoes and drop my book bag before I collapse face down on the bed. I lie motionless on the cool linens, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Practice wiped me out again.  My body is so enervated that you’d think I’d just run a marathon, not performed a simple dance routine. A few months ago, I wouldn’t even have broken a sweat over it. But I have no stamina at all anymore. At least my voice is back now. Sort of. It sounds different: ragged and raspy. It startles me every time it comes out of my mouth. I don’t sound like  _me_. And my singing voice is, well…  _Ugly_.  
  
I’m tired. Tired of trying. Tired of failing. Tired of holding the others back. Tired of seeing pity in their eyes. Tired of being tired.  My litany of tiresome things lulls me to sleep, my thoughts slowing down until I’m left with only a vague feeling of discontent. Then sleep comes, slamming the door shut on my worries.  

 I emerge from the dark well of slumber, disoriented. Soft hands touch my arm.  _Jae?_  I force my heavy eyes open, squinting at my surroundings.  _Where am I?_  Dorm room. Daytime—I guess, anyway, judging by the meager light that filters in from the courtyard.  _How long was I asleep?_   I try to shake off my grogginess. Someone’s sitting next to me on the mattress.  _Who?_  I screw up my eyes against the light and a face comes into focus.  _Micha._

 “Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispers with a smile, showing her dimple.

 “Hey.” I croak the word out while my brain struggles to make sense of what’s happening. I look around the room, trying to piece things together.  

 It looks the same, but somehow  _off_. My backpack is where I dropped it by the bed, but now there’s a dainty purse on the floor next to it. My sneakers are by the door, but now there’s a pair of small fashion boots next to them. And the door is closed. I never close it during the day, in case friends want to stop by for a visit.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. Micha sits cross-legged on the bed next to me. That’s weird, too. She’s never been in my bed. Our parents would never allow either of us to spend time in the other’s room at home. We’ve always gone to  _noraebangs_  or the occasional hotel for time alone together. Then it hits me. She can’t be here. No girls are allowed in the boys’ dorm.

 “What are you doing here?”

 She pouts, looking down and playing with the sleeve of my red sweatshirt. “You’re not happy to see me. And after all the trouble I went through to get in here.”

 “Of course I’m happy, but… How  _did_  you get in here?”

 “Heechul helped me sneak in.”

  _Heechul_. I should’ve known.

 I scrub my hand through my hair, agitated.  _This is bad_. “He shouldn’t have done that. We’ll both get into a lot of trouble if you’re caught here.”

 “You worry too much. No one’s going to bother us.”

 I’m not as sure of that as she seems to be. And I have more at stake than she does.

 “Why are you here?”

 “I brought you some food.” She points to a cloth-wrapped box on the nightstand. “And I wanted to see you. I miss you.” She looks at me through lowered lashes, shy.

 “I miss you too. But we can meet somewhere else. Where we won’t get in trouble.” I’m starting to wake up now and the danger of this situation is sinking in. The rules are strict and set in stone. I might not have to leave SM if we’re caught, but I won’t be allowed to stay in the dorm anymore. I can’t let that happen. I need to be here.

 “Micha…”

 “No! Don’t tell me to leave. Don’t tell me you’ll see me at school or at your parents’ house or after your precious practice because it never happens. I never see you anymore, Yunho.” She looks up at me and her pretty eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Don’t you miss me at all?”

 “Of course I do.”

 I feel like a monster. She’s right. I’ve been so wrapped up my own problems, dragging myself through my daily routine, that I’ve neglected everything else. I haven’t played soccer with my school friends. I haven’t gone out drinking with Taehyun or Eunhyuk. I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie or went to a concert. And I’ve all but ignored Micha. I look at her with regretful eyes as she fights back tears. She’s wearing a pink flowered dress and her smooth hair is pinned back on one side with a neat bow. She’s pretty, and dainty, and miserable because of me. It’s my fault she grew desperate enough to risk coming here. My fault she looks heartbroken right now.  _I have to fix this._

 “Aww, baby. Come here.” I pull her into a hug. I’m as gentle as I can be, afraid of crushing her. Her thin arms wrap around my neck, and I lower my face into her hair, breathing in her sweet perfume. She’s like a perfect little doll. I  _did_  miss her. Holding her like this is nice.  _Comforting._   I cradle her against me, enjoying the contact.

 Something tickles my neck. I try to pull away from it, but it happens again. It’s Micha. She’s kissing along the unscarred side of my throat, up toward my jaw.

 “Micha, I don’t think…”

 She places a tiny finger against my lips. “Shh. Don’t think.”

 Then she’s kissing me, pushing me down on the bed, and climbing on top to straddle me. She’s so light that I barely notice her weight, but I wrap my arms around her slight figure and hold her close.

 It’s been a long time since we’ve been intimate. A few months, at least. Hell, it’s been ages since I’ve had any kind of sexual release. I haven’t even gotten myself off, too tired for anything by the time I get home. Now, my body comes to life and reminds me of its long deprivation. Part of my brain is telling me to go for it, to dive into Micha’s welcoming softness. The other part of me is screaming out a warning about what will happen if we’re caught.

I ignore the warning voice.

 I return her kiss and run my hands down the thin arc of her ribs to her miniscule waist. I’ve always loved how small she is. The contrast between her slender frame and my sturdy one has always been a turn-on. Her delicacy and my strength. But today, it feels wrong somehow. She seems…insubstantial. Breakable.  I wish I didn’t always have to hold myself back with her. I wish I could give myself over to passion without fear that I’m hurting her.

 An image of wide shoulders narrowing to an impossibly small waist flashes through my mind. Pale skin and a body that’s somehow strong and fragile at the same time.

  _No._

I shake my head to scatter the unwelcome thoughts.

 Micha lifts her head at the movement. “What is it?”

 “Nothing.” I gently tug her head back down into a kiss, trying to lose myself in physical sensation. But now her lips feel wrong. Too small, too thin. I can’t describe what’s wrong. I just want  _more._ More than this.

  _Dammit._

 My arms fall away from her as I give up. It’s hopeless.  _Not going to happen._   

 She sits up and looks at me, hands braced against my chest. Her lovely face is puzzled.

 “I’m sorry. I can’t concentrate.” I grasp for an excuse. “I can’t stop thinking about what will happen if we’re caught. It’s too risky.”

 She gives me a searching look, biting her lip. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

 “What do you mean?”

 “It’s not me, is it?”

 “What? No. Why would you think that?”

 She sits back. Her eyes are downcast, hands clenched in her lap. “Well, I mean, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. You hardly ever call. When you do, you fall asleep while talking to me. You keep saying we’ll get together, but we never do.” She looks up at me, her expression pained. “And when I finally take matters into my own hands and come visit you, you don’t seem happy to see me.”

 I can’t stand to see her hurt like this. It’s not her fault.

 “I’m sorry. Please believe me that it’s not you. I’ve been sick, and I’m sleeping all the time. And I’m under a lot of pressure and…it’s definitely not you. It’s all me. I’m not myself these days.”

 She gives me a direct look. “That’s true. You’re not. ”

 I rub my hand up and down her arm, trying to soothe her.

 “You’ve been so patient and good. I don’t deserve you. Just give me a little more time to heal. I’ll be back to normal soon.” I manage a smile. “That’s what the doctor says, anyway.”

 The reminder of how sick I’ve been works wonders. Her expression grows rueful, and she steals a quick look at the scar on my neck. Her tiny hand pets my chest for a moment, comforting me. Then she’s climbing off me and clambering out of bed.  I swing my legs over the side and sit up.

 She darts around the cluttered room, gathering her belongings, straightening her hair, checking her face in the dusty mirror over the dresser. When she’s ready, she stands by the door and taps a message into her cell phone. As she frowns at the screen, I admire her: a lovely young girl in a flowered dress. When she looks up at me, my heart aches at the sadness in her eyes.

 “Will you be okay? How are you going to get out?”

 “I just texted Heechul. He’ll be here in a minute.”

 I nod. Things feel awkward. It’s hard to believe that we were making out just a few minutes ago.  It’s not goodbye forever, but it feels like it. It feels final. The light from the courtyard is almost gone now as twilight drifts down over the city. We look at each other in silence across the shadowed room. Her phone beeps.

She checks the screen. “Heechul. I have to go.”

 “Okay, be careful. I’ll call you soon.” I wave. The atmosphere is uncomfortable.

 She nods, and turns away without making eye contact. Right before she opens the door, she speaks over her shoulder, gaze averted, “I love you. I just want you to remember that. I really love you.”

 Then she slips out the door.

 I fall back on the bed, limbs splayed. Relaxed. I hate myself for it, but I’m relieved she’s gone.

 

 —*—

 

From my seat inside Starbucks, I watch Heechul escort Yunho’s girlfriend to her car.

 He’d invited me to come have coffee while the couple was spending time together in Yunho’s dorm room. “We should have time for a nice long chat while they’re, uh, catching up,” he said.

 As we drank our coffee and Heechul talked about the upcoming showcase, I tried not to imagine what was happening upstairs. But I kept picturing them together. I imagined that girl touching Yunho’s strong shoulders and running her hands down his lean torso.  Stroking  the backs of his strong dancer’s thighs. Getting to kiss the lips I coveted. The thought made me queasy. I had no right to feel hurt, but it didn’t matter. I felt sick to my soul with jealousy.

 But we hadn't been there half an hour when Heechul’s cell beeped. Checking the screen, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

 “Either Yunho’s the quickest draw at SM, or things didn’t go the way Micha planned.” He gave me a gleeful look. “And from what rumor says about Yunho, my money’s on the second option.”

 He excused himself to go sneak Micha back out of the dorm, a satisfied smirk on his face.

 Now, he’s holding her car door open and nodding as he listens. His hand rests comfortingly on her shoulder. Her expression is sober and she shakes her head as she speaks. She looks unhappy.

 As I watch them through the window, I take a long sip of my caramel macchiato. It tastes absolutely delicious.

 

_To be continued…_


	6. Tough Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The project group gets bad news. Yunho can’t seem to get a break—until Jae takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of my shorter chapters/more frequent posts plan. I definitely think this system will work better for me. Those 6k word chapters were killing me. OTL
> 
> I don’t want to give anything away, but I’m really glad to be past a certain point in this story. It’s been hard to put Yunjae through some of these scenes. And stay tuned, because the first major story milestone happens in the next chapter. Eeee! I’m excited to get there. ^^

—*—

 

“We’re not in the showcase.”

Heechul delivers the news with a carefully neutral expression. “I ran into Gil as he was posting the list, so there’s no question. We’re not performing.”

Silence. We’ve been expecting it, but hearing the official word is still a blow.

For weeks now, the studio has been buzzing with excitement as project groups refine their routines, trying to highlight their charms and convince instructors they’re ready to go pro. Showcases are the gateway to stardom. The annual performance gives the public a glimpse of up-and-coming idols and allows SM to get a sense of how popular the group might become. A fan café sprang up for BoA after one showcase appearance. And for Shinhwa’s Eric.

A dazzling showcase doesn’t guarantee stardom, but it does bring trainees one step closer. No one wants to be passed over. But only the best groups get tapped to perform.

 _We didn’t make the cut_. It doesn’t bother me much—I’ve never been chosen—but it’s the first time for Yunho and Heechul. They’ve been in every showcase since they started training. Being left out this year feels like a rebuke. Or a warning.

“I fuckin’  _knew_  it!”

Kangin throws the CD case he’s holding across the room. It shatters on the mirrored wall, clattering to the floor in pieces. I’ve never seen him so pissed off. He glares at Yunho in a fury, fists clenched and eyes hard with blame. For one alarming moment I think he’s going to take a swing at him. Heechul steps forward, putting out a hand to hold him back—and earns a look of angry contempt. Then Kangin storms out of the practice room, kicking over a chair and slamming the door behind him. Heechul shakes his head and sighs.

“That went about as well as I expected.”

He picks up the CD pieces and rights the toppled chair, then looks around the small studio. We’d been warming up for practice when Heechul walked in and dropped the bombshell. A full water bottle rests on the floor by a battered boom box. The props for our routine are stacked in the center of the dance space. They’re pointless now. With another sigh, Heechul turns away. He hefts the bag Kangin left behind, then glances over to where Yunho stands frozen in shock.

He hesitates, looking back at me with concern. “You guys okay if I go?”

I nod. “We’ll be fine.”

Heechul casts a doubtful look at Yunho, but doesn’t argue. He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then leaves to find Kangin.

I’m alone with Yunho. He stands motionless, expression calm, but I know him well enough by now that his stoic look can’t fool me. Inside, he’s screaming.

“We knew this would happen,” I say in a soothing voice. “You said yourself that our performance wasn’t strong enough to make this year’s show.”

Yunho nods in silence, staring at the floor.

“We’ll be in the next showcase.”

“Will we?” Yunho rasps. His ragged voice sounds worse than usual today. He looks at me with bleak eyes.

“Of course we will. We’ll have to work harder, is all. Practice more and—“

“All the hard work in the world won’t bring my voice back.”

“Of course it will. It’s only been a few months since your surgery. Coming back from what you went through isn’t easy. No one expects you to bounce right back like nothing happened.”  _A lie._  Some people did expect that, however unfair it was. But I’m not going to bring that up now.  _Keep it positive._  “Look how far you’ve come already. Think how much better you’ll be in a—“

“Jae.” His tone is flat. “Stop. Please. I don’t need a pep talk. I need to face reality.”

“That  _is_  reality, you’re being too hard on yourse—“

“No!” He turns away, presenting me with his profile. “No, I’m not.”

He paces a few steps away, running his hand through his hair, visibly agitated. He looks down at the floor for a moment, then swings back to face me. His expression is tortured.

“I don’t know what to do. I’ve done everything I can think of to get better but nothing’s working. I can’t keep up with the routines. Dancing wipes me out. And my voice…” He stops and shakes his head, looking down, lips twitching with restrained emotions.

We stand in silence for a moment. Yunho tries to collect himself after his outburst, fighting tears. The small space between us feels like an uncrossable chasm. I want so much to take the one necessary step forward and embrace him. To hold him and rock him and tell him everything’s going to be okay. His suffering tears at my heart. The scar on his neck has healed beautifully. Only a thin white line remains to commemorate the ordeal. But pain survives in the broken music of his voice as he strains to sing along with us. And in his eyes, as he fails.

“Maybe I should give up,” he whispers. “Accept that I can’t sing anymore and focus on dancing. I won’t be an idol, but I could still dance backup.”

“Backup?” I’m shocked. I can’t believe he said that. Not Jung Yunho, SM’s golden boy. If there’s one person at this company who was born to be a star, it’s him. It’s his destiny. Everyone knows it.  _He_  knows it. Or at least, he used to. “You can’t just…give up on being an idol. What about your dream?”

“What about Kangin’s dream?” His eyes challenge me. “What about your dream? Should I hold you back? We all know that I’m the reason our group didn’t make the showcase. How many more chances will you lose because you’re too kind to kick me out?”

“That’s not why.”

He looks at me in confusion. “What?”

“We’re not keeping you because we’re kind. It’s because we have faith in you. We see how hard you’re trying, and we know you’ll get better. We believe in you.”

He gives me a sardonic look, unsaid words hanging in the air between us _: then you’re_   _fools._

I choose my next words carefully. I know his pride. “Yunho…I know some techniques for getting past vocal problems. An  _ahjumma_  in my old apartment building taught them to me. I could show you, if you want.”

 He dismisses my suggestion. “I already saw a speech therapist—“

“And it worked! You couldn’t talk at  _all_  a few months ago, and now you can. I can do that for your singing. I can help you.”

His face flickers with longing, but I see he’s afraid to ask for help.  _Afraid to hope._

“Please, Yunho. Don’t give up. After everything you’ve done for me, let me repay you by helping with this one small thing. I know we can make you better.”

I wait while he considers. In the hallway, I hear trainees cheering and shouting congratulations. The noisy celebration gets louder as the showcase announcement spreads through the school. Their happiness feels a world away from the tense atmosphere in this studio. In here, there’s only bitterness and loss. Yunho glances at the door, still considering my offer. The moment seems to stretch on forever.  _Please please please._

Finally, he nods. “Okay. Why not? I’ll try anything.”

Happiness floods through me.  _Thank god_. I know I can help Yunho sing again. I can help him regain his old confidence. I want to help him get back to the way he was before the operation: happy, friendly, sure of himself and his place in the world.  _I want the old Yunho back._

I grin at him. “Good. You’ll see. You’ll be outsinging Eunhyuk in a week. Although, I guess that’s not really saying much.”

He nods and his lips curve upward, but the smile never quite reaches his eyes.

 

 —*—

 

“No, do it more like this. Ah ah ah ah ah aahhhh…”

I sing a few notes to show Yunho what I mean. He cocks his head to listen closely and then tries to imitate me. “Ah ah ah ah ah ah ahhhh…”

The first part sounds okay, but then his throat takes a chainsaw to the last few notes. He looks down in frustration, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Don’t tense up!” I warn him. “Keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open.”

He nods, tilting his head from side to side to stretch his neck. He’s still tense.

“Here. Let’s do the jaw exercises together.”

As we move our lips and jaws through a series of exaggerated motions, I’m grateful that the blinds are pulled shut on this sound booth so no one can see us.  _We look like idiots_. Well, at least I do. Somehow, Yunho makes all the mouth exercises unbearably erotic. The long illness has stolen most of the baby fat from his face, refining his features. He looks more grown up now, with high cheekbones and a sharp-edged jawline. Less cute and more masculine. The harder lines of his face make his mouth seem even lusher. A plush touch in all that angularity. It’s torture to smile and pretend I feel nothing as his lips pout a mere foot away. At least now I have a good reason to stare.

It’s my third week training him in the techniques I learned from Old Lady Neuk. It feels strange to be his teacher. Before, it was always Yunho educating me.

I’ll never admit it to anyone, but in my secret heart I’m glad Yunho got hurt. I’m not glad he’s suffering or that he’s been through so much physical pain. Not that.  _Never that_. But his injury evened us out. For the first time, I feel like I have value in our friendship. I’m providing something worthwhile—something he  _needs_. It’s not just him looking out for me, helping me, pulling me up. Now I can repay him for the million small gestures of kindness he’s given me since I got here. I’m even grateful for the struggle I had to find my own voice because it means I can help Yunho now. My pain was worth it.

“Ah ah ah ah ahhhh…”

Even after the exercises, Yunho’s voice cracks. He slams his hand against the side of the booth, radiating frustration. It hurts to see him knotted up like this, inside and out.

“It’s okay. Here. Drink this.” I hand him a water bottle. While he sips, I explain  _Ahjumma_  Neuk’s technique for keeping your throat loose. I show him how I do it. “Ahhhh…”

He nods and tries it. “Ahhhh…”

_No good._

I have him run scales.

_Even worse._

Yunho looks fed up. “Forget it. This isn’t working.”

We’ve been practicing for almost an hour now with no results. He’s near his breaking point.

“It takes time. That’s what you always told me, remember? You have to keep trying.”

“I’ve been trying! What do you think I’m doing? All I do is try! It’s not working.” He scowls, his handsome face sulky.

There’s something childish about his reaction. The tantrum of a kid denied a treat. It’s strange to see him like this, when he’s always been the one encouraging me. Encouraging all of us. His petulance seems out of character for the Yunho I know. Why does he take every little failure so hard? He’ll get there eventually.

 _Oh my god._  Sudden understanding hits me, and I look at him in wonder. “This has never happened to you before, has it? You’ve never had to work this hard for something you want.”

He blinks, taken aback. “That’s not true. I’ve worked hard. I train as hard as anyone here…”

I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean. What I mean is…everything always comes so easy to you. You’ve never had to  _fight_  for it. If you tried, you succeeded. Am I right?”

He doesn’t get it. I almost want to laugh at the puzzlement in his dark eyes.  _Ridiculous._  When I speak, my tone is harsher than I intend. “Welcome to the real world, Yunho. Now you know how it is for the rest of us. We  _always_  have to work this hard. It’s  _never_  come easy for us. You lost something the rest of us will never have. And you’re upset because now you have to struggle like the rest of us mere mortals?” I give a short laugh, shaking my head.

He looks stunned by my outburst. Chagrined. But his face is pensive as he mulls over my words.  _I should give him time to think_. I walk over to the music table and pretend I’m looking for something in my satchel.

I hope I wasn’t too hard on him.

Yunho might have had it easy before, but no one can claim his life isn’t tough now. Damaging his voice, slipping as a dancer, and losing his status as studio darling.  _A fall from grace_. He left a conference with  _Seonsangnim_  last week looking sober and shaken. He wouldn’t tell us what happened, just locked himself in his dorm room for the rest of the day.

The other trainees support him, but I’ve been surprised by their occasional callousness. You’d think they’d sympathize with him, knowing how it must feel to see your dream snatched from your hands. But I guess that years of envy ate away at their hearts. They worked hard for every grain of praise from SM, and then watched while Yunho skipped over them to the top, taking for granted everything he had that they wanted. I’ve had that thought myself a few times, but I never disliked Yunho for it. I never blamed him for being better than I was. But not everyone sees it that way. Some trainees seem glad that Yunho can’t compete on the same level anymore, thinking it will improve their own chances.  _They’ll still fail._

As if that weren’t enough, Yunho mentioned that his parents are encouraging him to go to law school. His father always wanted him to study law anyway, and he’s putting the pressure on now that Yunho is vulnerable. Even some of Yunho’s instructors have hinted that he should focus his efforts on dance.

And Micha. I don’t know what happened between them in that dorm room, but he broke up with her right after her visit. I try not to gloat about it, but, well…I’m human. Yunho wouldn’t talk about it, so I asked Heechul. He said Micha told him that Yunho let her go “for her own good.” He said he was going through some things she couldn’t understand, and it wasn’t fair to put her through it. That makes sense, considering the hard time he’s having these days.

If he has a new girlfriend, I don’t know about it.

I turn around to face him. He looks at me warily. Probably afraid I’m going to lecture him again. Even though I think he needed to hear it, I feel awful. Like I kicked him when he was down _. Sorry, Yunho._

“Want to keep trying?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” I smile at him. He smiles tentatively back, trying to gauge my temper. His frustration is gone.

We’ve been doing exercises and scales for a half hour when I notice it. His breathing. I watch him sing scales, noting how his throat moves and his chest contracts when he exhales.  _Is he doing what I think he is?_  I stop him.

“Hold on a sec, Yunho. Let me see something.”

I step forward until I’m right in front of him. I rest one hand on his throat, right over his Adam’s apple. I can feel it move under my palm when he swallows. I place my other hand low on his chest, over his diaphragm. He gives me an uncertain look, obviously wondering what I’m up to.

“Sing something.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy, but he does it. “Ah ah ah ah ahhh…”

_There it is. Yes._

I look at him with excitement. Has it really been this simple all along?

“Yunho. You’re used to singing from up here,” I press his throat, “and not enough from down here.” I pat his chest. “You can’t do that anymore, not when your throat is already so burdened. Sing from lower in your body. Breathe out like this.” I show him what I mean.

He sings while I hold his throat and call out instructions. And sings again. His smooth skin vibrates under my hand, sending shivers through me. I try not to be distracted by the scar that scratches a path from his voice box to his jawline. His pulse flutters next to my hand.

He sings again while I hold him.

“Ah ah ah ah ah ahhhh…”

Rich, round notes float from Yunho’s lips and hover in the air between us like a memory of happier days. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. Yunho’s mouth falls open and he stares at me, eyes wide. I stare back, moved.  _Finally. A breakthrough._

“Try again,” I whisper.

He does. “Ah ah ah ahhhh…”

 _Perfect._  Each note is perfect.

He sings a line from  _I Believe._ His voice rasps on the final notes, but most of it is good. Solid enough to build on. Tears prickle my eyes, but inside I feel pure elation. It’s all I can do to not jump up and down in celebration. We’re both laughing with joy and blinking back tears at the same time. Relieved. So relieved. It’s going to be okay. He’s going to sing again.  _We did it._

Yunho looks happy. He stands taller, like a tremendous burden has been lifted from his shoulders. My heart gives a little twist to see his eye smiles back after so long.

His face hovers close to mine. Our bodies move together as we laugh, chests and shoulders bumping. I realize that my hand is still on his throat, my thumb tucked under his jaw by the pulse point. My other hand rests on his stomach. I can feel it jump with each laugh from Yunho and that feels so strange that I pull it away. The moment is turning awkward for me as my painful awareness of Yunho’s body returns in full force. I feel a flush move through me, heat rising in my skin. Self-conscious, I move to step back.

But Yunho has other ideas.

As I drop my arms, Yunho moves forward into my space. It happens so suddenly that I don’t understand what he’s doing. I’m off balance, confused.  _Why is he crowding me?_  Then strong arms wrap around me and pull me into his embrace.

A hug from Yunho. As much as I’ve craved it, as often as I imagined how it would feel, the reality is better than I dreamed. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s sanctuary.

 _Now I know_.

Yunho’s warmth envelops me. I recently had a growth surge so he’s not much taller than I am anymore, but I feel protected by his arms, by his strength. _Safe._ I breathe in the clean scent of Yunho’s skin like a drug, and all thought stops. I’m overwhelmed by sensation. His muscular arms holding me tight against his lean dancer’s body. The soft press of his chest. The brush of his face against my hair as he holds me close. The warmth of him. The strength. The incredible sweetness. I hug him back, relaxing into the embrace, letting my eyelids droop shut in bliss.

I want to stay inside this moment forever.

I feel him turn his face toward me, nuzzling into the fine hair by my temple. My heart quickens as I hear his breath puff near my ear. The faint scrape of stubble against the skin on my cheek. A rush of heat sweeps through me as I imagine tilting my head a little, just enough to fit our mouths together. Just enough to press against him, to slip between his curved upper lip and the temptation of that thick lower lip. Just a taste. A flickering graze. A simple, soft, hot collision of lips…

My heart thuds wildly as I picture it. Every cell in my body screams to get closer to him. I’m flushed with heat. Dazed with yearning. I want to risk it. _What would he do?_

In a husky voice, Yunho whispers, “Thank you, Jae.” His arms tighten around me, his breath hitching with unshed tears.

And just like that, my fantasy crumbles. The broken gratitude in his voice brings me to my senses. I’m ashamed. Ashamed for trying to turn affection into desire. Ashamed for wanting something he can’t give me. Ashamed I’m not satisfied to finally get something I’ve dreamed of for so long. Ashamed for wanting more. _One-sided love is a burden_.

This embrace is enough. Yunho’s friendship is more than enough.

I open my eyes, determined to stay rooted in reality. The soft underside of Yunho’s jaw is centimeters away. I’m so close that my breath shudders against his skin with every exhale. I incline my head forward until my lips touch the thin, white line of Yunho’s scar. It’s not a kiss. It doesn’t dare to be a kiss. But as my mouth brushes tenderly against him, his heart throbbing under my lips, it becomes the most precious moment of my life.

_To be continued…_


	7. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trainees let off some steam at a house party. SM holds an important photoshoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! We made it to the first big story milestone. I can’t believe we’re finally here. This chapter was a refreshing change after all the angsty stuff I’ve been putting Yunjae through. And the next few chapters should be a lot of fun to write—and hopefully read. ^^
> 
> Comments are the ♥best.♥

—)(—

 

“ _Gunbae_!”

I clink my shot glass against a dozen others held out into the center of our group.  _Soju_ slops over our hands, spilling down onto the plates and bottles cluttering the table. Glad I’m not the one who’ll have to clean up this mess tomorrow. I toss back the bitter liquor, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The fast-fading pain reminds me how healthy my throat is now. How healthy  _all_  of me is.

Taehyun slams his glass on the table and lets out a long belch.

“ _Aish_! You’re so gross.” Soori wrinkles her nose, playfully slapping his shoulder. In response, Taehyun grabs her and starts trying to belch in her ear while she struggles to get away, giggling. Everyone ignores them, chattering and laughing as we walk away in small groups.

We’re all a little drunk and a little giddy. School exams are over and we have a week with no practice as SM gives trainees a chance to visit their families before the grueling summer training. Most of us chose to stay in Seoul, hanging out with friends and letting off steam. Tonight, we’re at a house party on the outskirts of the city. Whose house, I have no idea. Probably another trainee, judging by how many SM people are here. Whoever they are, their parents are wealthy. The house is huge, a maze of rooms with traditional long-beamed wooden ceilings and inlaid furniture. Out back, a garden slopes down through stands of trees to the river. I almost feel like we’re in the country, with nature surrounding us.

I take a sip of beer, looking around the crowded living room.

The furniture has been pushed back to form a makeshift dance floor. A throng of dancers move against each other in the dark room as Lexy’s  _Grasshopper_  plays. The song is up-tempo, but I can see some couples already starting to grind on each other. Things will get slow and dirty in there soon.

As I walk by the dancers toward the exit, a girl in a skintight red dress gives me an enticing look. She’s dancing with her slim arms over her head, tangling them in her long, dark hair. Her body moves in a slow undulation, inviting me to come over and touch.

I nod at her, but keep moving toward the exit. Her disappointed eyes follow me, puzzled by my rejection.  _Sorry._  A few months ago, I’d have jumped right in and enjoyed what’s she’s offering, but not now. It’s not that I don’t find her attractive. She’s exactly my style: pretty eyes, nice figure, straight hair. Or what my style used to be, anyway. I’m not sure what it is now. I only know it’s been a very long time since I met anyone I want to have sex with. No matter how alluring the girl is, my body isn’t interested. It’s like being offered  _kimchi_ when you really want cake. It’s fine. You could eat it. But it won’t satisfy your craving.

“ _Yah_! Yunho! Come here!”

As I walk into the next room, Junsu beckons to me. He’s standing with Heechul and Kangin near a billiards table. I can tell from here that Junsu is wasted already.  _Great._  I hope he doesn’t throw up. If he does, it’s Heechul’s problem. He drew the short straw of being designated driver tonight.

“What’s up?”

Junsu is weaving in place, tilting dangerously forward, then catching himself. When I walk up, he clutches at my arm to steady himself.

“Yunhooo! Tell Heechul to let me be in your group. He says I can’t.” He pouts.

Heechul rolls his eyes. He’s exasperated with the tipsy singer. “You’re already in a group.”

“But we suck!” he whines. “Everybody knows we suck. I wish they’d put us out of our misery and reassign us already. Then I could be in your group. You guys are the best right now.”

 

It’s true. We’re at the top of our game. There’s no point having false modesty about it when we’ve worked so hard to get there. We’ve put in hours of extra practice over the past few months to perfect our performance. Once my hormones stabilized, my stamina returned and I was able to keep up during our intense training sessions. Dancing became my refuge again. It’s the one skill I can always rely on. Something I know I’m better at than anyone. It comes easy to me—although I wince when I think those words, reminded of Jae’s lecture.

_Jae._  He’s like my fun-house mirror image. Our strengths and weaknesses are exaggerated opposites, but somehow they work together. We’ve both come so far this past year. His vocal lessons with me made his own voice much stronger and now he’s unquestionably the best singer in our group. One of the best at SM, in fact. He and Junsu were called to Lim’s for a special performance and impressed the hell out of him. That gave Jae the boost of confidence he’s needed. He’s come into his own as a performer, revealing an unexpected shy charisma during performances. I’m proud of him. And while he’s still not the strongest dancer, he’s improved a lot. It’s been a long time since Heechul has sarcastically suggested we call a doctor for Jae’s seizure.

_Jae._

I scan the room to see if he’s here, but then something hits my arm. Hard.

“Ow! What the hell?” It’s Junsu.

“Listen to me! I’m serious, Yunho.”

“I’m listening. What?”

“Let me be in your group.”

Kangin interrupts. “For the last time, no. There’s no room for you.”

“What? Why not?” Junsu is indignant.

“Because we’re the Four Seasons.  _Four_ , get it?”

Heechul nods. “All our routines are designed for four singers and dancers. We’d have to rework everything to include you.”

“So?” Junsu’s expression is mulish. He gets like this when he’s drunk: latching onto one idea and worrying at it like a dog with a bone.

“So we’re not fixing something that’s not broken,” says Kangin in annoyance.

“It’s like you don’t  _want_  me to join,” Junsu says, suspicious.

“What gave me away?” says Kangin, sarcasm dripping. “You’re right. I don’t. Four Seasons doesn’t need you.”

“Okay, but what if…” Junsu gets a crafty look on his face. “What if you were the  _Five_  Seasons?” He grins at us in triumph.  _Jesus. How drunk is he?_

“Are you brain damaged?” Kangin asks in disbelief. He looks done with this conversation. Heechul rests a hand on his arm, calming him, then speaks to Junsu in a soothing tone.

“There are only four seasons, kitten.”

“No!” Junsu is stubborn. “Not true. What about hunting season? Or holiday season? I could be Christmas. Or…or…” His eyes go wide and he snaps his fingers as inspiration strikes. “Nighttime! I’ll be nighttime.”

“Oh my god. I can’t take this much stupid. There’s not enough liquor in the world,” Kangin moans, pinching the bridge of his nose in pain.

“ _Yah_! I can hear you,” says Junsu.

“Stop talking. Please stop talking.”

“Why don’t you grab another drink, hm?” says Heechul to Kangin. “I’ll see if I can’t sober this one up a bit.” His hand comes down firmly on the back of Junsu’s neck.

Kangin nods and exchanges a quick glance with Heechul. I watch closely, trying to catch a moment of secret communication pass between them.

Sometimes, I think I hallucinated what happened in the practice room that day. They act so normal that I think there’s no way they’re more than friends. There’s no way their bland interactions could mask the fervent heat I saw. But every now and then I catch a sidelong look or see a touch that lingers a few seconds too long and I know I didn’t imagine their desire.  _How do they hide it so well?_

Kangin heads off to the kitchen for another drink. I look over at Heechul, who’s force-feeding Junsu some bottled water.

“Have you seen Jae?”

“Not for a while. I’ve had my hands full keeping Christmas here out of trouble.” He gives me a weary look. “I swear to god, Yunho, I’m not doing this anymore.”

I’d feel bad, but we’ve all had to play babysitter before. And I can recall a few nights I had to piggyback Heechul all the way home while he slobbered on my shoulder. I grin as Junsu coughs up water onto Heechul’s designer shirt.  _Payback time._

“I’m going to look around and see if I can find him.”

“Oh fine. We’ll wait here.” Heechul looks at Junsu’s sputtering cherub face with bitterness. “Right here. All night.”

I laugh at Heechul’s despairing expression as I walk away.

I keep looking for Jae. I feel lightheaded from the alcohol as I wander through one overwarm room after another. The house goes on forever. It’s the time of night when people start pairing off. I pass couples making out in hallways, on stairways, and even in bathrooms. Bedroom doors close, one by one. Still no sign of Jae. I’m starting to get annoyed.  _Where is he?_  I refuse to believe that he’s hooking up with someone, that he might be behind one of those bedroom doors. He hasn’t been with anyone since his  _ulzzang_ -fetish girlfriend ditched him right after we met. I can’t imagine him starting now.  _He better not._

I don’t let myself think about why the idea angers me so much.

Finally, I end up back down by the kitchen again. I grab another beer while I’m there, looking around at the trashed house. I’m about to text Jae when I see Kangin talking to a girl over by the dining room window. It’s Jinah.  _Thank god._  I’ll bet she knows where he is.

I go over to ask her and notice that she’s playing with the buttons on the front of Kangin’s shirt. They’re standing very close. If it were anyone else, I’d think nothing of it. A boy, a girl, a little harmless flirting. But as I watch Jinah slide her fingers up to his shoulder, I frown. It seems…wrong.  _What is he doing? What about Heechul?_

I realize then that I know nothing about their relationship. These two guys that I spend hours with every day of my life, who stuck by me through dark times, who I consider two of the best friends I’ve ever had, are strangers in this way. I can’t answer the simplest questions about their relationship. Are they dating? Are they in love? Would Heechul care that Kangin’s letting a girl touch his chest?  _I don’t know._

Although, I bet I can guess the answer to that last question.  _I would care._

I turn quickly and leave the dining room before they notice me. I avoid the dance floor—which is as dark and raunchy now as I predicted earlier—and slip out a set of sliding glass doors onto the back patio.

The cool night air is a relief after the stuffy house. It makes me feel less dizzy from the alcohol. I take deep breaths to clear my head, enjoying the soft, scented breeze from the forest. I walk down a short flight of wooden stairs to the shadowed lawn. A pebbled path winds toward the back of the lawn and scattered white benches glow in the moonlight. Far off under the trees, fireflies glimmer and fade in the dark.

I put my hands in my pockets and tilt my face at the sky, hoping to see stars. But the yellow glare of Seoul washes out the sky.

“Yunho.”

I turn and see Jae sitting on a bench under a nearby tree.  _Finally_. I join him.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry. I came out for some fresh air, and then it was so nice out here I just stayed.” His voice softens with reverence. “Did you see over there? Fireflies.”

I nod. “Pretty. I can’t remember the last time I saw any. It’s been years.” I’m not looking at them. My eyes are locked on Jae. He’s leaning back against the wooden bench, one knee drawn up to his chest. I can make out his dreamy expression in the moonlight, his faint smile a soft curve against his luminous skin.

_Beautiful._

I’ve long since stopped beating myself up for thinking that about him, for finding Jae so attractive. I fought it for months, god knows. I tamped down any lurid thoughts and denied my physical reaction to him. I told myself it was just fluctuating hormones making me feel that way. I almost believed it. But I’m healthy now and still find Jae—and only Jae—alluring. I accept that there’s something about him, some strange alchemy of lips and skin and eyes, that my body can’t resist.

He’s the cake I’ve been craving.

I don’t understand how it happened, how I got to a place where I lust after one of my best friends. Jae and I have grown close in the past few months as we worked to save my voice. I’ve grown to admire his persistence, his gentle heart, his honesty, and his innocence. He stood by me when everyone else gave up on me. He’s earned my friendship for life. He’s like my brother. Yet, I still wake up from dreams of him, hard and aching and groaning out his name.

Desire crept up on me. I always thought Jae was attractive, the same way I think sunsets are pretty or flowers look nice. Impersonal admiration. But then I started noticing little things about him—the way strands of wet hair cling to his neck during a hard practice or the little beauty marks scattered across his pale skin—and longing flooded me. I started wanting to touch him. To do things to him that I never imagined before.

What is it about him? Is it because he’s so feminine? Does his beauty trick my body into thinking he’s a girl? Because I don’t find other guys attractive. The thought of being with Taehyun or Kangin makes me gag. I can’t see them in that way at all. I don’t want to. Even Heechul, who’s kind of feminine too, leaves me completely cold. But with Jae, it’s different. I can’t  _stop_  thinking about him that way. I find myself wondering what it would be like with him. How would it feel to kiss along that fragile nape? To trace the delicate arcs of his collarbones? To run my hands down his toned arms, strong and supple at the same time? Heechul’s voice mocks me in my head:  _the best of both worlds._

“What?” I snap out of my thoughts to realize Jae said something.

“I asked if you knew about fireflies.”

“What about them?”

“I read somewhere that only the males fly. Girl fireflies stay on the ground and wait for a mate.”

“Wait. All these,” I point to the dozens of swooping lights, “are guys?”

“I think so.”

“Why don’t they just fly straight to the closest female? What’s with all the…” I draw loops in the air to show what I mean.

He shrugs, looking off into the trees. A moment later he says softly. “Maybe they don’t want that. Maybe they’re having fun.” He points to where two tiny spots of light trace intricate ellipses around each other in the darkness. “See? They’re dancing.”

I watch the two glowing motes circle each other for a few minutes, but then my attention fixes back on Jae.

So many times I’ve been tempted to try something with him, but I haven’t dared. There’s no going back once we cross that line. There’s no undoing it. And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? Even when the entire studio said he had a crush on me, I never saw it. Oh, sometimes I catch him staring at my mouth, and I think  _there_.  _There it is._  I see unmistakable heat in his gaze. But then he pulls back and it disappears. It’s like he throws a switch and shuts everything down. I don’t know what to think. The uncertainty is driving me mad. I need to know. If Jae’s the only one my body wants, then I need to find out what’s possible.

“Jae.”

His dark eyes glint in the moonlight as he looks at me. His soft mouth shimmers with moisture. I can’t look away from it. I want to slide my lips through it, shape that silky roundness to my own mouth, press his lips apart. I take a halting breath as desire twists low inside me.

_Do it. Kiss him_.

The sudden thought scares me.  _How drunk am I?_  It’s a bad idea. A very bad idea. A very very bad idea. The worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

“Yunho?” His low voice interrupts my frantic thoughts. The tip of his tongue slips out and dabs more moisture on his lips.

_Fuck. I’ll risk it._

Shaking with nerves, I slowly reach out and clasp his hand, drawing it from his lap. He looks at me in puzzlement, but lets me. I hold his gaze while I run my thumb across the cool skin on the back of his hand, tracing the nodes of his slender bones. Jae swallows and looks down. Even with the moonlight bleaching color from everything, I can see him blush. I feel a matching heat in my own face.

I’m suddenly aware of laughter echoing from the back porch. Three girls stand near the steps, smoking cigarettes and talking about American movies. One of them glances briefly in our direction, then turns back to the conversation.

I realize that Jae and I are sitting out in plain view of the house, holding hands.  _Dangerous._   _We can’t be seen._ A voice inside my mind screams out a warning. It tells me to not do this, to not jeopardize our friendship. The sensible thing would be to drop Jae’s hand and return to the party. Laugh it all off and pretend I feel nothing. But I don’t do that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the months of frustrated longing, but I don’t want to be sensible. Tonight, in this moonlit garden, I want to find out where passion leads us.

I stand up, still holding Jae’s hand, and tug at his arm. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

He stares at our hands, his eyes shadowed and questioning, but obediently gets up and follows me.

I lead him by the hand along the path to the small woods at the back of the garden. As we step under the shadow of the trees, the light dims and the sounds from the party fade to silence. A rich, loamy scent rises from the forest floor, surrounding us. It’s peaceful here. Quiet. It feels like we’ve entered another world, far away from our normal lives. We wander on, hand-in-hand along the dappled path.

A short ways in, we reach a small clearing ringed with evergreens and filled with flickering firefly lights. Hundreds of luminescent dots swirl through the air. It’s magical.  _Yes._   _Here._  I release Jae’s hand. I turn him to face me, my hands on his wide shoulders, and then slowly back him against a tree. He doesn’t resist, but I can’t tell how he feels. He seems dazed.

I move close to Jae, crowding him, pressing him back against the rough bark of the trunk. I lean in until we’re touching all along the length of our bodies, bumping hips and chests. Heat rises where we connect. I can feel my heart pounding hard in my ribcage; can see the same hard beat pulsing at Jaejoong’s throat. I stand close, breathing him in, the sweet, clean scent of his skin filling my senses. We look at each other, our faces inches apart. His dark eyes seem enormous in his pale face. We’re both breathing hard, soft puffs of air wafting against each other’s skin. I’m lightheaded with desire.

“What are you doing?” Jae sounds breathless. His eyes search into mine, then dip down to look at my mouth.  _Yes._

“Need to see something. Need to know… Jae, let me…” I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m intoxicated by the feel of him, the movement of his lithe frame against mine. I brace an arm against the tree by his head, leaning in closer until our faces almost touch.

“Can I?” I murmur, my lips almost brushing his with the words. We’re so close our breath mingles, hot between our lips.

Eyes wide, he nods.  _Yes._

I close that last small distance and press my mouth gently against his. Just light pressure at first, a whisper of touch. Jaejoong exhales sharply. It sounds almost like a whimper. I pull back for a moment to look at him. His pale face is flushed. His pupils blown to blackness. He looks overwhelmed, and we haven’t even started. When his eyes flutter closed and his head falls back against the trunk in surrender, I can’t hold back.

I move in and mesh our lips together again, pressing harder this time. I feel the lush circle of his mouth shape to mine, its softness yielding to me. Our mouths fit perfectly, sliding into place like we were made for each other. When my lower lip nestles between the plush pillows of Jae’s lips, parting them, he moans, long and low. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. My whole body goes hard at the sound, a wave of desire prickling over my skin. I’m so turned on I can barely breathe, panting as I slant my mouth against his, pressing closer, feeling the slight friction where our bodies meet.

I lean into Jae, pressing him back into the tree. His hand slides up my arm to rest on my shoulder, pulling me closer. My heart pounds so hard I can see my pulse beating in my eyes.

My phone rings. I recognize Heechul’s ringtone, but I ignore it.

I push against the softness of Jae’s mouth, feeling his response. Tentatively, I swipe my tongue across the swell of his upper lip. A teasing stroke, not daring more yet. He shudders beneath me, his body arching up into mine.

Jae’s phone rings. With a small noise of frustration, he breaks our kiss and turns his head to the side. “Heechul,” he breathes. He doesn’t answer it, though. We stare at each other in the dim light, our chests heaving as we gasp for breath. Jae’s mouth is wet and swollen.  _Tempting._   _Beautiful._  I want to spend the next year of my life kissing him, finding new ways to coax that moan from his lips.

My cell phone goes off. Heechul again. I frown. Something’s wrong. Reluctantly, I ease back off Jae, lowering my arms from where they’re pressed on either side of him. I pull my phone from my pocket.

“ _Yoboseyo_?”

“Yunho. I’m leaving this party right  _now_. If you want a ride back into town, come meet me by the door.” Heechul sounds upset.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. We just need to leave. Immediately. ”

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

“Can you grab Jaejoong? I’ve got Junsu.”

“Sure. Is Kangin with you guys?”

There’s a tiny pause, then Heechul says, “He’s getting a ride from Jinah. Now hurry.”

He hangs up.

I turn back to Jae. He’s looking at me with concern. “Did something happen?”

_Yes._  “I don’t know. We have to go. Come on.”

Jae nods. As we leave the clearing, he touches a wondering fingertip to his mouth. His lips look pink and sore. He darts an unreadable glance at me, then turns away.

On the way back to the house, we don’t speak a word.

I suddenly feel very sober.

 

—)(—

 

The throbbing in my head wakes me. I sit up, clutching my head as pain explodes through it. Every part of me aches. I take inventory. Body limp and exhausted? Check. Stomach lurching with nausea? Check. Dry mouth? Gritty eyes? Check, check. And a thumping headache in my brain that threatens to split my skull apart. Check. I feel like death.  _Hangover._

_How much did I drink last night?_

I look at the clock on my nightstand. It’s only 9:30 a.m. I fall back down on my dorm bed, trying to pull myself together. I’m grateful for once that little light gets in here through the courtyard. For once, the eternal dusk of my room is soothing. I rub my hand across my aching forehead, memories of the night before flashing through my mind. A house party. Dancing. Drunk Junsu and angry Heechul. Kangin and Jae’s friend leaving together. A garden and…

My breath stops as an image of Jae swirls up from my memory. He leans against a tree with his head thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed. Fireflies circle in patterns around us as I lower my head to—

_Holy shit._

Did that really happen? Did I cross that line? Did I really drag Jae into the woods, push him against a tree, and kiss him until his mouth was raw?

I did.  _Holy shit._

My eyes widen and my heart races as the details come flooding back. Jae’s surrender, the heat of our melding bodies, the incredible softness of his lips. As I remember how he moaned and pressed against me, a wave of heat sweeps my body. I’m half hard again at the memory.

Then I frown.  _Wait._

Jae ignored me the rest of the night.

We walked in silence back to the house and met Heechul by the front door. We helped him haul a drunk and giggling Junsu out to the car. During the drive to Jae’s apartment, Junsu monopolized my attention with a rambling story about losing at billiards. I tried to catch Jae’s eye, but he looked steadily out the front window. When we got to his place, he jumped out of the car and sped toward his front door, calling goodbye over his shoulder without looking back.

What happened? I would swear that he enjoyed our kiss as much as I did, that he wanted me. So why ignore me?  _Is he angry? Is he sorry?_ A cold knot forms in my belly at the idea that he regrets it. Maybe I was so drunk I misread him. Maybe I saw and heard only what I wanted to. Maybe he didn’t like it as much as I thought. Maybe he was gritting his teeth the whole time, letting me do what I wanted because he was too nice to say no.

I feel sick.

_What have I done?_

A sudden thought hits me, and I grope for my phone. Maybe he messaged me. Checking, I’m disappointed.  _Nothing._ But there’s a message from Manager Pak marked urgent. I open it.

>Photo shoot 10am  
>Sound stage 2

Wait…10 a.m.? I check the time. It’s 9:40.  _Fuck._ No time to waste. I scramble out of bed and race to the shower, clutching my aching head.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m walking through SM’s lowest level, heading to the large sound stage in back. I can hear a loud commotion ahead. Everyone must already be there for the shoot. I hurry up, not wanting everyone to wait on me.

When I enter the room, I don’t see what I was expecting to at all. Tripods with lights and cameras are set up around the space for the photoshoot, but instead of photographers and assistants, instructors mill around everywhere. Lim and Director Gil are reviewing some paperwork, Gil ticking off items as Lim points them out. And  _Ssem_  Soo Man is there. He’s standing with his arms crossed by one of the umbrella lights, overseeing his bustling employees. There’s an electric quality to the air. Something major is happening, I can feel it.

I notice Junsu standing by the wall off to my left, and I quietly move over to stand by him, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. His face is haggard and puffy, and he squints his eyes against the bright spotlights. He looks as hungover as I feel.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“No idea. They told me it was a photoshoot.”

“Same here.”

We exchange puzzled looks. Then Junsu shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.”

We watch everyone run around for a few minutes, trying to guess what’s happening.

“ _Anyeong haseyo_!” We turn to see the new American trainee enter the room. He’s only been at SM for few weeks. I haven’t had a chance to meet him yet. He waves cheerfully at everyone in the room, brash and casual with manners as only an American can be. Junsu and I exchange a look. We’re beyond guessing now.

Soon after the American arrives, a floppy-haired kid enters the room. I can’t remember his name. Then my heartbeat picks up as I notice Jaejoong standing in the doorway. He glances over at me and Junsu and then hastily averts his eyes. My stomach knots. There’s no mistaking his reaction.

Director Gil looks up sees the newcomers standing there waiting for instructions. He nods at Manager Pak, then abruptly ends his conversation with Lim. He folds the paperwork he’s holding, and then raises one hand. “Quiet, everyone! Quiet down! Let’s get started.”

The room goes silent. The atmosphere is tense as we wait for instructions.  _Seonsangnim_ Soo Man nods and steps forward into the center of the room.

“Everyone’s here now? Excellent. Let’s make this quick.” He gestures Jaejoong and the other trainees over to where we stand by the wall and has them stand in line with us, facing him. He scrutinizes our lineup, then pulls Junsu away and puts him to the end of the line at his left. That leaves Jae next to me. I try once again to catch Jae’s eye, but he’s watching  _Ssem_ Soo Man. Something seems to pass between the two of them, an unspoken conversation. I’ve never seen  _Ssem_  look so…cold. Then  _Ssem_  frowns and grabs the floppy-haired kid, shoving him between Jae and me. Jae bows his head and looks down, his cheeks burning red.  _What was that about?_

_Ssem_  appraises our lineup one final time and seems satisfied.

He points to us one by one as he walks down the line. “Kim Junsu. Micky Brown. Kim Jaejoong. Shim Changmin. Jung Yunho. Meet your new members.”

_What?_

We all stare at each other wide-eyed, in complete shock. New members? Are they joining Four Seasons? But then where are Heechul and Kangin? How can they not be part of this when they’ve worked so hard? My head throbs as I struggle to understand what’s happening.

_Ssem_  continues. “From now on, you’ll devote your every waking hour to this group. I’ve been watching each of you for some time now. You’re all talented. You all have the qualities we look for in SM trainees. But are you stars?” He pauses and looks down the line, making eye contact with each of us in turn. “I’ve put a lot of thought into it, and I believe the answer is  _yes_. I believe you have what it takes to be the greatest  _hallyu_  sensation yet. Prove me right.”

With a final stern look at each of us, he nods and strides from the room. The board members follow.

Manager Pak approaches us, rubbing his hands together in a brisk motion. “Brace yourselves for an intense schedule, boys. You’ll be working night and day. Living, eating, and breathing with your members as you train. And you’ll need to use every minute of that time well, because Lee Soo Man intends to debut your group in December. You have six months to prepare—starting right now.”

 My new group members look at each other. We’re in shock.

_What…the hell?_

 

_To be continued…_


	8. A Sorry Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new group members move into the dorm and get to know each other. Jae and Heechul have a heart-to-heart chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to a 3-hour airport layover and a long flight, I was able to get a short chapter out for you guys this week. Yay! It’s rough, but I’ll polish it up when I get back from my trip. Also, between Jae enlisting and Yunho’s tears, I’ve had enough angst. The next chapter will be pure DB5K fluff. ^^
> 
> Comments are l♥ve.

—)(—

 

Manager Pak throws open the door and we get our first look at the group’s new apartment.

“Waaah! This is great!” says Junsu, dropping his backpack just inside the door and walking around. “I was afraid it would be like Yunho’s old room.”

 _Me too_. But the new place is far nicer than my dark, cramped room overlooking the inner courtyard. SM has given us a corner suite on the top floor—the best possible location in the dorm. That alone tells me that they have high expectations for this group.

_No pressure._

The main room is spacious and bright, with plain white walls and wood floors. Large windows look out on the SM building across the main street. The furniture is nothing special—a couch, shelves, a coffee table and some chairs. All of it is well-used, but decent. It’s nice enough, but there’s an impersonal feel to the room. There’s nothing welcoming about it, nothing that says “home.”  _We can fix that._

We all set down our bags and start to walk around. Junsu disappears down the hall. I can hear his excited exclamations as he explores. The American keeps his backpack on as he peers around the corner into the dining room. He keeps a pleasant smile firmly fixed on his face, but I can see a lot of thinking going on behind his eyes.  _Deep waters_ , as my father would say. He’s someone to keep an eye on.

I’m not sure what to make of Changmin. The kid hasn’t spoken more than a few words since I met him this morning. He reacts to everything with the same solemn acceptance, his expression placid. I heard that he was slated to be a solo singer, so he must have a good stage presence, but so far I haven’t seen a glimmer of charisma. Maybe he’s just shy?

And Jae. My gaze is pulled to him like a magnet. He’s wandering around inspecting the suite with the rest of us, his face lit up with surprise and appreciation. From what he’s told me about his run-down old apartment building, this place is a big step up.

I walk over to him, as casually as I can make it look. He darts me a glance when I stand next to him by the window, then his eyes skate away and he turns his head slightly, blushing. It’s the same reaction he’s been giving me since last night. He’s obviously uncomfortable.

I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet. After  _Ssem_ ’s announcement, our new group sat through hours of intensive orientation, then came here to our new quarters. We haven’t had a minute alone together—and that seems to be fine with Jae. Every time I try to talk to him, he looks down and then finds an excuse to leave. I don’t know what to think, but a sinking feeling in my gut tells me that I’ve screwed everything up. How did I misread him so badly last night? Was I really so drunk that I thought my friend would want me rubbing my body all over him? I cringe inside at the memory. No wonder he won’t look at me. He’s embarrassed for me. As embarrassed as I am for forcing myself on him.  _Need to apologize_.  _Need to make things right again_.

I speak quickly before Jae can walk away. “Hey, can we talk?”

He nods, but doesn’t meet my eyes. He stares out the window at the SM building, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. He’d obviously rather be anywhere else than here.

My face burns with shame at what he must think of me. I keep my voice low as I try to explain. “Look, about last night. I’m real—“

“Not much of a view, is it?” Changmin’s voice sounds right in my ear. I jump, startled. He walked up so quietly that I didn’t even realize he was there. He’s looking at the billboards on SM’s rooftop.

“The studio? It’s not so bad. We won’t forget why we’re here, that’s for sure.” I try to laugh, but it doesn’t sound natural.

Changmin nods. “Like that’s possible with our insane debut schedule. We won’t have time to think of anything but SM for the next few months.” He shakes his head while I look at him in disbelief. This kid doesn’t say a word all day, then the moment I get a chance to talk with Jae he gets chatty?  _What the hell._

“So that schedule isn’t normal? Oh thank god.” The American joins us.  _Great._   _It’s a party_. At least Jae looks more relaxed now, listening closely as Changmin responds.

“Sixteen-hour rehearsal days? Normal? Maybe for robots.”  _Kid’s got a mouth on him._

“Now, now. Don’t make it sound worse than it is,” Manager Pak says as he walks up with Junsu. “You’ll get used to it. And you’ll be grateful for every minute of practice when you debut.”

Chastised, we all bob and our heads and mutter, “Of course, manager- _nim_.”

He gives a satisfied nod, then opens the folder he’s carrying. “Since everyone’s here, let’s go over the last few items of business. Follow me.”

We trail behind him as he walks us through the suite, explaining SM’s expectations for cleanliness and order. We have to take turns cooking and cleaning. Respect each other’s property. No guests after 10 p.m. and no female guests at all, except with special permission. He drones on about more rules, but I already know them all from having lived in the dorm this past year.

He points out a row of shelves where we can keep our equipment. Cabinets in the two bathrooms for towels and toiletries. We cram into the back hall together so he can show us to how to work the thermostat. Then he pauses and looks down his list again.

“I think that’s it. Oh wait. Sleeping.” He points to several doors along the dark hall. “There are three bedrooms. We might turn two of them into music rooms for you eventually, but for right now you can spread out. Two, two, and one.”

“Yunho and Jaejoong can have the big bedroom,” offers Junsu generously. “Since they’re the oldest.”

My stomach flutters a bit at the thought of sharing a room with Jae. I have a quick, vivid image of how it would be to lock the door, push him back onto a bed, and kiss my way down his pale body. Heat prickles my skin at the thought. But when I look at Jae, his averted eyes and uncomfortable body language are like being doused with ice water.  _What’s wrong with me?_  I haven’t even apologized for what I did last night, and I’m already planning ways to do it again. Jae’s probably worried I’m going to jump him again.  _He should be._

I feel monstrous.

“No, you have assigned rooms. It says right here. You,” Pak points to Junsu, “are in the middle room with Changmin.” Junsu looks nervously at Changmin, who seems indifferent to the news.

“You two,” Pak continues, pointing at Yoochun and Jae, “are in the front bedroom. Yunho, you take the bedroom at the end of the hall down there. Everyone okay with that?”

We nod.  _Yes._ What else can we say?

“Good. Go ahead and get settled in. The rest of your belongings will arrive later this evening.” He consults his watch. “I have a meeting with the director about your schedule in a few minutes, so I’ll leave first. See you at 7 a.m. sharp tomorrow.” We bow our goodbyes, then he bustles off around the hall corner, leaving us alone.

We all look at each other. There’s so much that needs to be said, so many new things to discuss and decisions to make, but we stand silent. Everyone’s tired and overwhelmed from this day of surprises. The worst of my hangover has faded, but I still feel like I could sleep for a decade.

“Let’s check out our rooms,” I say finally. That breaks the spell. We shake off our lethargy and grab our bags.

“I looked at them earlier,” Junsu says. “This is the nicest one.” He leads us to the first door on the hall, the one Pak indicated belonged to Jae and Micky.

He’s right. It is nice. The room is large, with two windows overlooking a quiet side street. There are two beds and two closets. There’s even space for a small loveseat. Micky and Jaejoong wander around, inspecting the space. They look pleased.

“Which bed do you want?” Jae asks shyly.

Micky shrugs. “I don’t care. You can choose.”

“Okay, I’ll take this one, then.” Jae picks the one farthest from the door. He sets his bag on the mattress and begins pulling out items. Micky investigates the closet on his side of the room. They both act like I’m not there.

“ _Yah_ , come see my room,” Junsu insists, tugging at my arm. But I don’t want to leave. I don’t like the idea of Jae sharing a room with this stranger. They only met a few hours ago, and now they’re going to sleep together? It feels wrong. But Jae still won’t look at me. Instead, the American tosses me a challenging look, as if to ask what I’m doing still standing in his doorway.  _Territorial_. I have no reason to stay, so I slowly back out of the room.

“Come look! Come on,” Junsu pulls me down the hall to the next room. It’s not as big as Jae’s room, but it’s still nice. Their window overlooks the courtyard, but it faces south, so they won’t have the eternal twilight of my old room. Changmin has already claimed a bed. He sits cross-legged on the mattress, eating a power bar and texting. He ignores us.

“Not bad, right?” Junsu looks around the room with satisfaction. I nod. The bedrooms in this new apartment are decent. I can’t wait to see what my new room is like.

Junsu follows behind me as we head to the last door on the hall, holding tight to my arm. I get the feeling he doesn’t want to be alone with Changmin. I can understand that. The kid’s a little creepy, what with the silent way he sneaks up on you and his snarky comments. I thought there was some kind of unspoken rule that  _maknae_ s had to be sweet and innocent. Junsu seems better suited for the role than the eerily calm Changmin.

When we reach my room, I throw open the door to get a good look at my home for the next six months. Then I drop my bag to the floor and just stand there. Junsu looks past my shoulder into the room, then grimaces and pats my arm. “Sorry, Yunho.”

It’s exactly like my old dorm room.

_Fuck my life._

 

—*—

 

“It’s over. Last night was the final straw. I am done, done, done with that boy!” Heechul’s voice is defiant, but his eyes are hurt.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not! Well, maybe I’m sorry I took his sorry ass back those other times he cheated, but no more.”

I nod sympathetically. I’ve been trying to find a moment all day to talk to him. Now, while my new group members are moving into their rooms, I managed to sneak out and meet him in the downstairs Starbucks for a quick chat.

Heechul and I have been confidantes for a while now. It’s been an incredible relief, a luxury, to have someone I can talk to about Yunho, about all these strange feelings I’ve had my whole life. Listening to Heechul talk about his own crushes and love affairs growing up has made me realize that I’m not a freak. I don’t have to be afraid of what I’m feeling. There are other people like me out there.  _Good_  people. And not just in other places like America or Europe. Right here in Korea. He’s made me hope, for the first time, that I won’t be alone my entire life.

But he’s also made me realize how much harder it is to find love when you have to hide who you are. His relationship with Kangin is stormy, with frequent fights. I’ve lost track of how many times they’ve broken up. But Heechul takes him back, again and again, because who else is there for him to date in our constricted SM world?

My phone vibrates. I stealthily check it under the table and see a text from Yunho.

>Where did you go?

 _Clack_. I flip the phone case closed, ignoring it to focus on Heechul again.

“He says it’s  _my_  fault that he can’t leave me alone. Like I’ve got him under some sort of spell that forces him to come crawling back to me. He does that to himself.”

I nod. I know their pattern.

He sighs. “God knows, I can’t blame him for wanting to be straight. Who would choose this life? Hiding all the time. Afraid of getting caught.”

He shakes his head and stares sadly at his latte, tracing his finger around the rim of the cup.

 _Vibrate._  More texts from Yunho.

 

>I need to talk to you.

 >Where are you?

 

I ignore these texts too, and look back at Heechul. He looks so glum. I wish there was a way to make him feel better. I cast around for something positive to say.

“He loves you. It’s just hard for him to admit it.”

He nods slowly. “I used to think that was enough. It was enough to know that he loves me. But let me tell you, knowledge is cold comfort when the person you love is out trying to fuck himself straight every time he has a few drinks.”

“Alcohol makes people do stupid things.”

 _Vibrate._ Yunho again.

 

>I’m sorry for what I did

 >Please talk to me

 

I frown at the words.  _He’s sorry._

“Okay, hand it over.” Heechul snatches the phone from my hand. “I want to see what’s more important than consoling your friend with the broken heart.”

I try to get it back from him, but he slaps my hand away and quickly scrolls through the texts.

“Sorry? What is he sorry for? Did you two argue?”

I look at him in silence. I don’t want to tell him about last night. All day, I’ve been afraid to say anything about it, afraid to sully the memory with words. I don’t want to talk to Yunho, either. I know he’s going to shatter my dream, and I want to cling to the beautiful memory a little bit longer. I don’t want to hear that he’s sorry. Or that he was just drunk and curious. I want to pretend, just for today, that the magic of last night was real. That it’s possible for Yunho and me to be together like we were in the forest last night. Remembering the kiss we shared, the passion, I blush.

Heechul raises an eyebrow. “Now I  _really_  want to know. What did our Yunho do to put such color in your cheeks?”

He fixes me with a hard stare.  _Crap._  It’s over. He’s on to me. There’s no point resisting him now that he knows I have a secret. He’ll get it out of me one way or another.

“He…” I lower my voice to a whisper. “He kissed me.”

“Kissed you!” Heechul’s voice rings loud in the Starbucks. An elderly woman seated at a nearby table glances over and frowns at us. I bow my head slightly to her, then turn back to the shocked face across the table.

“Shh! Yes.”

Heechul lowers his voice, but it still drips with disbelief. “ _Yunho_  kissed you? Jung Yunho? The guy I gave a ride home to last night? That Yunho?”

“You know perfectly well which Yunho,” I scowl at him. It’s been a nerve-wracking day and I’m not in the mood for his teasing.

“Sorry, kitten. I just can’t wrap my head around the idea. As much as I’ve been rooting for you, I never thought anything would actually happen.” He leans forward on his elbows, resting his chin on his clasped hands. “But now that it did, I want to hear everything. Tell me every filthy detail.” He waits with a rapt expression.

I start to speak, then hesitate. By almost anyone’s standards, the kiss was chaste as can be. A mere meeting of lips, pressure, a moment of connection. The kind of kiss you’d see in a TV drama. But the  _feeling_  of the kiss…

_Perfect._

When Yunho took my hand in the moonlight, he set my pulse racing. His eyes were earnest, his fingertips gentle on my skin. In that moment, I could believe he felt the same way I do. Hope sparked inside me. Instead of ruthlessly beating it down like I usually do, I was weak. I gave in to it. I let the spark glow for a while, let myself get lost in fantasy.

He made it so easy.  

He led me into the woods, under the darkness of trees. His warm hand clasping mine. And then the enchantment of the clearing, hundreds of soft lights dancing around us as he pressed me back against the tree with his strong arms. He moved in close, heat arcing between our bodies where they touched. His face was so close to mine, his mouth hovering a breath away from mine. If I’d said “please,” simply shaping the word would have brought our lips in contact. I ached to say it.  _Please._

He caged me with his arms, surrounding me until I was breathing him in, the warm amber scent that was uniquely Yunho. I could feel my pulse trip faster, feel the heat in my face, feel it rising from his skin.  _Is this real?_  None of my fantasies had ever been so good.

And then he kissed me. Even after he asked, it caught me by surprise. Such a brief press of lips, a tease, but it startled a gasp from me. How was it possible? Why would Yunho want to kiss me? When he pulled back to look at me, I saw his gaze was hot with longing. It was my every wish come true.

The rest was a blur of wanting. His hard body moving against mine, his breath on my cheek, the feel of his skin as my hand glided along the sleek muscles of his arm. And finally— _finally_ —knowing the taste of him. The swift sweep of his tongue. The plush fullness of his seeking mouth. I know now how it feels to press that luscious lower lip between mine and have him respond. I remember arching into him, wanting our bodies to meld, become one.

The memory of it sends heat rushing through me. My face burns hotter and my lips tingle.

Heechul quirks his lips into a knowing smile. “Mm. I see. That good, huh?”

I nod. My face feels like it’s on fire.

Heechul sits back in his chair and crosses his legs. “Well! I can’t get over it. Miracles do happen. No offense, but I never thought I’d see this day.” He shakes his head in wonder. “So… Did he declare his undying love for you?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you that he can’t fight his lustful craving for you anymore?”

I shake my head.

“No? Well, what did he say?”

“Not much. We talked about fireflies. And then he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the woods. And then right before he kissed me he said…” I frown, trying to remember. “Something about how he had to see or ‘could he’ or something. It didn’t make a lot of sense.” I pause. “He was pretty drunk.” I trail off uncomfortably.

Heechul looks at me a long moment, then lets out a heavy sigh. “Kitten…”

I shake my head to stop him. I don’t want to hear what he has to say, no matter how true.

Heechul notes my reluctance and speaks with uncharacteristic kindness. “Okay, fine, so he was drunk last night. The morning after is the test. What did he say today? Besides ‘sorry.’”

“Nothing. We haven’t had time to talk.”

“Okay… So, maybe the alcohol doesn’t matter. Maybe he needed it to get up the nerve last night, you know? What if he’s sincere? Will you give him a shot?”

For one glorious moment, I imagine that it’s the way Heechul describes: Yunho gathering the courage to kiss me, confessing a secret longing. I imagine a life with him by my side, seeing him every day, love and desire in his eyes when he looks at me.  _Would that be worth the risk? Would it be worth losing everything if we’re caught?_

But then I remember Yunho’s text:  _I’m sorry for what I did._

And I think of the years of friendship we’ve shared, without even a hint from him that he feels more.  _No._ I won’t delude myself any longer. Last night was the sweetest dream. I’ll treasure it in my secret heart until I die. When I’m an old, old man, I’ll rock in my chair by the fire and remember beautiful Yunho kissing me in a grove of shimmering light. That will have to be enough. It can never be more.

_Time to wake up._

I snuff out my daydream with ruthless efficiency, chastising myself for giving in to weakness again.  _What’s wrong with me?_  I know better than to believe fantasies can come true in my life. I need to accept reality and face Yunho. Hearing him apologize for our lovely kiss is the slap in the face I need.

When I speak, my voice is firm. “No. He regrets it. And even if he didn’t, even if he wasn’t just drunk last night, you know nothing can come of this. You know the consequences for me. For him. I can’t risk it.”

“Does he know about your deal with  _Seonsangnim_?”

“No! When could I ever have told him about that?”

“Good point. So now what?”

“I let him apologize. And everything goes back to the way it was.” I shrug. “We’re no worse off than before it happened.”

We both sit in silence for a while. Heechul sighs again and says, “You didn’t ask for my advice, so I won’t give you any. You’re far more practical than I’ve been.”

“I’m sorry about Kangin.”

Heechul shrugs. “It’s just a little heartache. I’ll survive. I’m glad it happened now, though. Imagine if Four Seasons had debuted and I was stuck with that cheater as one of my members! Hopefully, we’ll get moved into separate project groups now.”

I hadn’t thought of that. Their nasty breakup would’ve been terrible for our entire group. Things turned out for the best. Work and romance don’t mix. I can’t believe I let myself lose sight of that truth for even a second. Not when so much is at stake now.

My phone vibrates. Yunho.

 

>Come back to dorm

 >ASAP

 >Your family’s here

 

I picture my new members meeting my family— _all_  of my family—and my eyes widen in panic.  _Oh no_. I grab my jacket, stutter a goodbye to Heechul, and run.

 


	9. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new group gets a visit from their families. Jae and Yunho have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, this chapter is mostly fluff. Yay! But I think you all are going to like very very very much what happens in the next chapter. Brace yourselves.^^
> 
> Kudos and comments are adored. ♥

—*—

 

_Total chaos._

I stand just inside the apartment door and stare at all the people running around in the small space. It’s hard to tell what’s going on. A young girl in pigtails runs screaming past me into the hall. In the living room, Junsu is looking at something on a cell phone with Junho, his twin, while an older couple talks to them.  _His parents?_  Two of my sisters are chatting with Micky and an old man by the large windows, while my sister Seonhee wanders around the room. She sees me by the door and calls over her shoulder, “ _Umma_! Joongie’s here!”

That does it. Everyone in the room turns to look at me.  _Crap._  So much for my plan to sneak back in.

My mom pops her head out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“Jaejoong! Where have you been? We came all the way in to town to visit you and you’re not even here?” Her voice is stern, but her face is concerned.

I bow. “Sorry,  _umma_. I had to meet up with a friend for minute.” As more of my sisters pour into the already crowded living room, I look at them in bewilderment. “What are you all doing here?”

“What? That’s no way to greet your family. Get over here.”  _Umma_  motions me over. When I draw near, she pulls me close in a tight hug. My sisters jump on too, wrapping their arms around us, more and more piling on in a group hug. I’m surrounded by them, by the people I love most in the world and suddenly my mood lifts. For one moment, I forget my worries and all’s right with the world.  _I am loved._

My sisters squeeze in tighter, giggling. I can feel the laughter shaking their bodies, and it makes me laugh too. Soon we’re all laughing together, a big pile of giggling Kims. Over the top of their heads, I see Micky watching us from the living room. For once, he’s not smiling. He looks almost…jealous. Then he turns and leaves the room.

 _Umma_  breaks up the hug. “Alright, girls, enough! We have work to do.”

My sisters back away, still giggling.  _Umma_  grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen with her, chattering away as she prepares food.

“We got no warning at all! Manager Pak called with the news only this morning and told us to bring your belongings here. We brought your stuff from home and gave notice at your apartment, but I don’t know what to do with all your things there. Tell us what you want to keep, and I’ll send Minkyung over to pack it up. I guess we can sell anything you don’t want.”

“You keep the money from that. You need it more than I do.”

She briskly dices red cabbage. “Nonsense. We’re doing fine. Money isn’t tight like it was when you were younger, dear. Work is steady now. And your sisters help a lot.”

“I’m glad, but please let me help, too. I’ve been nothing but a burden to you.”

She sets down the knife and looks up at me.

“You’ve never been a burden. Not in any way. You are the joy of my life, you know that.” She reaches up and pats my cheek, eyes misty. “You’ve been a good son and brought me nothing but happiness. And now you’re going to be a famous singer! No mother could be prouder.”

She gives a firm nod, blinking back tears. Then she returns to the cutting board, her hands busy slicing again.

“Can I help with something?” I feel bad just standing there while everyone around me is working hard. Minkyung is putting groceries and dishes away in the glass-fronted cabinets, while Seonhee stirs something on the stove top. It smells delicious. I frown. “What are you doing cooking, anyway?”

“Why am I cooking? Because there wasn’t a crumb of food in this house when I got here. Five growing boys and nothing to eat.” She makes a tsk-ing sound. “You’ll waste away to nothing. Look at  _him_. He’s starving.” She gestures toward the doorway with her knife.

I turn and see a guilty-looking Changmin blush as he’s caught sneaking out of the kitchen with a handful of sliced sweet potatoes. I didn’t even see him come in. But nothing escapes my  _umma_. She shakes her head.

“We’re just cooking up some dinner for you boys to have tonight. I hope Manager Pak does a better job feeding you after today. You tell me if he doesn’t, and I’ll take care of him.” She hacks at the cabbage in savage swipes, as if picturing Pak’s face under her knife. Behind her, Minkyung smiles and rolls her eyes.

I walk over and kiss her cheek. She’s my oldest sister and like a second mother to me. When I was young, especially in middle school, I used to go to her with troubles I couldn’t tell  _umma_ —like problems with bullies and questions about dating. She helped and supported me no matter what, never telling my parents anything. Minkyung can keep a secret to the grave.

She smiles and looks me up and down. “You don’t look malnourished to me.”

“We’re not. We get plenty of food.”

“I believe it. You’re growing so tall. And you look so handsome and manly now.” She shakes her head. “Hard to imagine you’re the same little boy who always wore his sisters’ clothes to the mall.”

“ _Yah!”_

She laughs, eyes mischievous. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell embarrassing stories about you to your new members. And I’ll keep  _umma_  quiet—for a price. Here.” She hands me a stack of plates. “Put these out on the dining room table.”

I give her a final “don’t you dare” look before doing as she asks.

I walk into the dining room and find Yunho’s sister folding linen napkins. Her face lights up when she sees me. “ _Ulzzang_! How have you been?”

I bow and set the plates down. “I’m doing well. How are you?”

“Pssh! Don’t be so formal! I feel like we’re best friends, the way Yunho talks about you all the time.”

My heart flutters. “He does?”

She nods. “All we ever hear about is Four Seasons and practice and SM  _this_  and his members  _that_.”

“Oh. Of course _.” Not what I was hoping._  I stack folded napkins next to the plates, my eyes downcast to hide my disappointment.

“What stories are you making up now, brat?”

The voice comes from right behind me and my heart flutters again, harder than the first time.  _Yunho._

I raise my head for a peek at him. He’s a few feet away, ruffling Jihye’s hair and grinning with deviltry like only an older brother can. She scowls at him and slaps his hands away.

“Stop! You’re messing it up.”

“I know. That’s the whole point.” He scrubs her scalp again.

“Stop it!” She glances at me, red-faced, as she tries to rearrange her hair, then turns and runs off down the hallway.  _Embarrassed._

It’s just me and Yunho. He watches Jihye go, then turns to me with a determined look.  _Wait._  I narrow my eyes _. Did he drive her off on purpose?_

“I really need to talk to you.” He wears the same troubled expression he’s worn all day. I can almost see the words “I’m sorry” stamped across his face. I don’t want to have this conversation. I already know what he’s going to say, so I wish we could skip the whole thing and just move on. But I know it’s a necessary step if we’re going to work things through and get back to normal.

I nod. “Yes, I want to. But I don’t think now is the righ—“

“Yunho!”

Jihye charges back into the room, dragging Yunho’s elegant mother behind her. Mrs. Jung is wearing a soft, pearl-gray silk suit with a cream blouse. Jewels sparkle at her throat and wrists. Her expression is puzzled as her daughter pulls her forward, but then she sees me and gives a warm smile.

“Jaejoong, right? We met before at the hospital.”

I bow low, awed by her. I think of what Heechul said.  _She has presence._

“ _Umma_ , Yunho was messing up my hair!”

“I can see that. Sometimes siblings do that. You’ve done it to him often enough. Maybe you should go tidy up.” Her face is calm, but the rebuke is clear. Jihye looks at her in angry astonishment for a moment, then stomps off down the hall. She glares at Yunho over her shoulder as she goes.

Mrs. Jung turns back to me. “I’ve been hoping to see you again so I could thank you, Jaejoong. Yunho told us about your lessons with him. He says your techniques saved his voice and let him sing again. It meant the world to him. To all of us.”

Her arm reaches out and wraps around Yunho’s shoulders, pulling him close to her side. Just like that time in the hospital, love for her son radiates from her. “We’re indebted to you. If there’s anything we can do for you…”

I wave my arms in frantic denial.  _Indebted?_  Just the opposite.

“No, no! Please! Yunho has done so much for me since I came to SM. I was grateful to have a chance to repay him in some small way for his kindness.”

“Repay who? For what?”

My mother’s tone is sharp as she walks forward into the room carrying a tray of side dishes. Minkyung is right behind her with a large bowl of kimchi. They set the food down and look at Mrs. Jung with flat eyes.

“Our Jaejoong owes you something?”  _Umma_ ’s voice is quiet, but both she and my sister assume a protective position on either side of me, set for battle.  _Uh-oh._

Mrs. Jung is undaunted. She inclines her head, all grace and manners. “He says so, but we’re the grateful ones. Yunho went through a terrible time after the surgery and Jaejoong was a big help to him, I understand.”

I feel my mother and sister relax on either side of me.  _Thank god_. The last thing I need is for them to get into a fight with another member’s family on our very first day as a group.

I can tell that _Umma_  is proud, but doesn’t want to brag. “Our Jaejoong did what any friend would do. Yunho helped him a lot his first year here. Oh, he didn’t say much, but we could tell that he was having a hard time. Bullies, you know. He’s always had trouble fitting in. But then, he’s always worked so hard to stand out with his strange fashion and such.” She pats my arm like I’m a child.

 _Humiliating_.

Yunho slides me a look. His face stays expressionless, but his eyes twinkle as he looks in my direction.  _Laughing at me._

“Well, it’s a good thing they’ve become close friends. And now their group is finally debuting! It was smart of SM to consider their bond and keep them together. I hear that the life of an idol is very demanding. They’ll need people they can rely on.”

 _Umma_  nods vigorously. “Oh yes, you need friends to lean on when things get hard.”

Her words give me a sudden, vivid flashback:  _Yunho pressing me against the tree in the moonlight, his lean body pressed hard against mine._

“So true! Close friends get you through all of life’s ups and downs. Nothing’s too rough to handle when a good friend lends a hand.”

“Yes, and working so hard together, I’m sure these two will be close in ways we can’t imagine.”

All three ladies nod.

“They say it’s lonely on top, but not when these two have each other’s backs!”

_Oh my god._

Why does everything they say sound so sexual? Or is it just me? My mind has a distressing habit of making everything related to Yunho erotic somehow. But when I dare to steal a glance at him, his cheeks are pink, too. I wonder if he’s picturing the same things I am. Our eyes meet, then dart away. If things between us were awkward before, now they’re much, much worse.  _Kill me_.

Oblivious to our reactions, the three women continue their bonding.

“But this apartment! I mean, I understand that they’re just boys and it’s only a dormitory, but you’d think that somewhere in all those complicated contract terms, decent housing would be listed.”

“I guess it depends on your idea of decent. Defining terms is critical in contract law…”

Mrs. Jung keeps Yunho clamped to her side as she speaks, so I decide to slip away and recover from my embarrassment. As I bow and sidle off, he shoots me a frustrated look.  _Sorry, Yunho._

I make my way to the back hall where the bedrooms are located. I’m about to enter my room, when Junsu pokes his head out of the room he shares with Changmin.

“ _Yah_! Jaejoong! Come here.” He seems excited.

Curious, I follow after him into the bedroom. Junho is sitting on one bed watching videos on a laptop, and Changmin is stretched out on the other bed. The  _maknae_  shoots me a warning look as I enter, but I’m not sure what it’s for.

“What’s going on?” I ask, waving a greeting to Junho. He nods, then looks back at the screen. Tinny piano music plays on the laptop speakers and he lets out a bark of laughter.

“Do you have any pets?” Junsu asks me.

“No, I don’t. My sisters have some.”

“Cats?”

“No, fish. And a hamster.” I don’t know what to think of this conversation. “Why?”

“My parents linked me a bunch of videos of our cats, and I was wondering if you wanted to look at them with us.”

“Videos of your cats? Uh…” I look over at Junho who is still enraptured by the laptop display. I’m afraid I know what he’s watching. Changmin’s warning look makes sense now. “I’d love to, but I promised my sister I’d get her something from my room.”

“Oh, okay. We can always look at them later.” Junsu seems disappointed. I feel bad, but not enough to stay and suffer the  _maknae_ ’s fate. A sudden idea hits me. “Changmin? Your parents were looking for you.”

He springs up from the bed, face alight with relief. “I should go to there. To them.”

He scoots up fast behind me, almost shoving me out the door in front of him. He calls back into the room as we’re leaving. “Thanks for sharing the videos! Your cats are really…special.”

The twins beam at him as the door closes.

“Oh thank god. Thank _you._ ” He leans against the hallway wall, hair flopping across his forehead, eyes closed. “My parents aren’t really looking for me, are they?”

_He’s sharp._

“Not that I know of.”

He nods, eyes still closed. He looks wiped out.

“Not a cat person?” I venture.

He smiles. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen him do that all day. I guess it’s been an anxious day for all of us, for various reasons.

“Nah. I like cats okay. But there were so many videos.” His eyes open and he stares off into space. “So many.”

I laugh. I understand. “It’s over now. And it was kind of you to watch them. You’ve won over Junsu, that’s for sure.”

He shrugs. “He seems like a nice person. I’ve seen him around the studio before. He has lots of admirers. I hear the girl trainees call him ‘angel.’”

“Yeah…well, they don’t know him that well.”

“You do, though. Are you saying he’s not nice? I thought you guys were friends.” He scrutinizes me with his sharp, brown eyes, assessing my reaction.

“I don’t mean that. I mean, we  _are_  friends, but he’s no angel. I mean, he’s nice. A nice person. It’s just…” I pause, flustered. “He’s very nice. You’ll see. But he’s just…normal. Sometimes, the girls build someone up so much that they can’t live up to it, you know?”

I think about Yunho, and how everybody always expects him to be perfect. Even after his struggles this past year, some people at SM hold him to impossible standards. And not just trainees. Some teachers view him that way, too. Worse, because he triumphed over his difficulties, some people think that means he’s invincible. There’s nothing he can’t do. There’s more pressure than ever on him to be the golden boy. I wonder for the first time how Junsu feels to have everybody thinking he’s some goody-goody all the time. Does he feel the same pressure Yunho does?

Changmin snaps me out of my reverie. “Yeah, I get what you mean. Those girls probably haven’t watched an hour of cat videos with him.”

“I’m sure they haven’t.”

“We should tell them it’s the key to his heart.” He grins evilly.

“Well, it’s not a lie…”

Suddenly, we’re both laughing. Silent, uncontrollable laughter that bends us double and brings tears to our eyes. I hold my sides and choke back any noise that would alert Junsu, while Changmin covers his mouth with both hands. His eyes look funny, one bigger than the other. The sight makes me laugh even harder, for some reason.

We sneak off down the hall, still laughing. Changmin heads out to look for his parents, while I finally enter my bedroom.

When I open the door, I’m surprised to see Jihye in there, sitting on Micky’s bed. She’s flipping through his American music magazines, looking bored.

“Hey.” I’m not sure what to do. I came in here for a moment alone, but now she’s here.

“Hey.” She tosses the magazines down on the bed and looks at me expectantly.  _What does she want?_  I head over to the stack of suitcases my sisters have dumped by my bed.

“Where’s the other  _ulzzang_?”

“You mean Heechul? I just saw him at Starbucks. He probably went home by now, though.” I unzip the top bag to see what my family packed. It looks like old clothes from middle school. I left them behind at home for a reason.  _Great._

“He’s not in your group? How come?”

“I don’t know. Because SM wants it this way? He’ll be in another group.”

She purses her lips and nods, looking thoughtful. I open another suitcase.

“Is this your bed?” She bounces on it once.

“No.”

“It’s mine.”

We both turn our heads to see Micky standing in the doorway, looking with cold eyes at Jihye on his bed. His gaze flickers down to the magazines scattered across the bedspread. There’s no trace of the perma-smile he’s had plastered to his face all day.

Jihye jumps off his bed and speeds over to stand by me. Micky hasn’t said or done anything threatening, but the message is clear:  _hands off my stuff_.

He goes to the bed and starts stacking the magazines into a neat pile, straightening the bent edges and smoothing the covers.

There’s an awkward silence. I struggle to think of something to say. I spot the two small suitcases by his bed. “Is that all you brought? Lucky you! I think my family packed every piece of clothing I’ve ever owned, including my baby clothes.”

He shrugs, eyes focused down on the magazines he’s arranging. “It’s all I could bring on the flight here. My family is going to ship the rest later. When they can.”

 _Guilt._  Of course his family isn’t here. No way could they fly all the way here from America on such short notice. I remember the jealous look he gave me during my family group hug and my heart goes out to him. He’s in a new country, with a new language, surrounded by strangers, and his family and friends are miles away. It must be hard on him.

_Cheer him up._

“Well, please feel free to use anything of mine until then. I have extra socks. And baby clothes. Maybe a sister? I have plenty of sisters, if you want to borrow one.”

There’s a long moment of silence when I fear my dumb joke has made things worse. Maybe he thinks I’m rubbing it in his face that I have so much of what he lacks.  _Stupid, Jae_. Then he turns and smiles at me, a genuine, warm smile, not the fake smile he’s been wearing like a mask. It transforms him. His whole demeanor was cold before, putting off these “leave me alone” vibes. I’d been nervous about sharing a room with him. I couldn’t imagine how we’d ever get along. But now he seems approachable, human. The ice has broken.

 _Relief._ For the first time, I can imagine being friends with him. I smile back.

Apparently, Jihye isn’t as impressed with the change in his outlook. “I should go see if I can help with dinner.” She starts toward the door, then whips around to face me.

“ _Omo_! I almost forgot why I came in here. Take this.” She hands me a small envelope. It’s pastel blue with an embossed lace border. “Yunho” is written across the front in delicate handwriting.  _Pretty._

She continues, “I’m supposed to hand it straight to Yunho, but I’m mad at him right now. Can you wait until very late tonight, and then give it to him? That’ll teach him.”

 Micky and I exchange a puzzled glance. “Okay, sure. But what is it?”

“A note from Micha.”

She waves goodbye and, with a final nervous look at Micky, leaves the room.

I stare at the letter in my hand like it’s a scorpion.  _Micha._

 

—)(—

 

I shut the door behind the last of our company and click the lock.

_Thank god it’s over._

Today feels like the longest day I’ve ever lived through. I had no clue when I woke up with that hangover this morning that I’d end up where I am right now: new group, new members, new apartment, new goals. Everything changed today. The only thing the same is Jae. If I can salvage our friendship, that is.

He’s not making it easy.

I’ve tried over and over to talk to him today, but he’s run away each time.  _Frustrating._  It’s not like I want to have this conversation, either. Explaining to a guy friend that I didn’t mean to jump his body last night, that alcohol made me temporarily crazy, is not my idea of a good time. And it’s not the talk I’d hoped to have.

Maybe the alcohol did make me crazy, because I honestly thought that I’d get to tell him how I feel after last night. How I really feel, I mean. I’d confess my months of longing and maybe find out if he felt the same way. Maybe he felt attraction, too, and we could see where it led us. It seemed so possible last night. Anything was possible.

Today, it’s hopeless.

I shake my head.  _Get it over with._

I pad down the hall to the kitchen. As I expected, Jae’s in there, cleaning up the mess from dinner. He’s washing dishes while Junsu dries them. I can see Micky in the dining room, clearing more plates from the table.

“Can I help with something?”

“You could make sure we got all the trash out of the living room, if you want.” Jae keeps his eyes on the dish he’s scrubbing.

“Sure.”

I pass Micky and enter the living room. It looks good. All the surfaces are clean. We might need to clean the floors later, but it looks okay for now.

“I’m hungry. Do you think Jaejoong would let me have some of his leftovers?”

I jump. Changmin sits in an overstuffed armchair near the door. The kid wears some sort of cloaking device, I swear. I never see him coming or going.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to share if you asked him.”

He nods. “I’ll wait. I don’t want to make more of a mess while he’s still cleaning.”  _Smart kid_.

He rubs his flat stomach, and I wonder for the hundredth time today where he puts all the food he eats. He’s built small and slender, like his parents. He’s already as tall as they are, though, so maybe he’s preparing for a growth spurt. That keeps happening with me and Jae. I’ll be taller than he is for a while, then he’ll grow and catch up to me. Then I’ll outgrow him again. Right now, we’re almost the same height, so maybe I’m due for a growth surge soon, too.

I scan the room for trash one more time.  _Nothing._

“Well, I’m going to see what else I can do to help the others.”

“Sounds good,  _hyung_.” He lies back in the chair with his eyes closed.

I wander into the dining room. Micky is piling dishes into a wobbly tower. It leans to one side as he tries to lift it, and I step forward before anything can fall.

“Here. Let me take those.” I grab plates off the top until the stack rights itself.

“Thanks.” He gives me a faint smile as we walk into the kitchen.

Jae glances over at us and sees the new dishes. “Oh crap. Are there a lot more after those?”

“No, this is the last of them.” We stack them next to the sink.

“That’s a relief. I was beginning to think my family brought our entire kitchen here.”

“Your mom is great.” Micky speaks softly, but his voice is more sincere than I’ve heard it yet. I remember seeing him with Jae’s family earlier. Jae explaining something to them, and then his mom giving Micky a sudden hug.

“I think she wants to adopt you, “ grins Jae. “I’ve always wanted a brother.”

They share a smiling look.  _What was that? A secret?_  I don’t like it. Jealousy sparks deep inside me again. I hate it, but I can’t help it.

“Brothers are great.” Junsu pipes in. “Junho’s the one person I don’t have to explain myself to. He somehow just knows what I’m thinking.”

“Well, maybe because he’s your twin.” Micky shoots him a sardonic look. “My brother has no idea what’s on my mind most of the time. And I don’t want to know what’s on his.”

Junsu shrugs and keeps wiping his plate. “Sad for you.”

I change the subject before a disagreement can start. “So, Micky is a cool name. You won’t even need a stage name.”

“Actually, my name is Yoochun. I prefer being called that. Micky was just easier for people in Virginia to pronounce.”

We all look at him. He speaks Korean with such fluency that it’s easy to forget he comes from a different world than we do. I have a million questions to ask about life in America.

“Is it true that everyone in America is bad at math?” Junsu blurts out.

“Does everyone carry a gun?”

“Do you really eat fast food every day?”

We pepper Yoochun with questions while we finish cleaning up. His life in Virginia sounds fascinating—and hard. Reading between the lines, his family doesn’t have much money. He’s been working several jobs for years now, doing what he can to support all of them, responsible at a young age. SM’s offer was a lifesaver for him. He jumped at the chance to come here, even though it meant leaving his family and old life behind. It sounds like he and Jae have a lot in common. I feel another twinge of jealousy.

When the last dish is washed and put away, we look around the kitchen to see if there’s anything left to do. It’s immaculate.

“Thanks for your help.” Jae says softly, bobbing his head. We give a chorus of “no, thank  _you_ ” and then silence falls. No one knows what to do now.

“We should go to bed. Pak’s going to be here early tomorrow.” I know he’ll be here at 7 a.m. on the dot, if that’s what he said. He’s always punctual.

Everyone nods. Junsu hangs the dishtowel over the oven handle and stretches his arms over his head, yawning. “I could sleep standing up.” He turns and staggers off down the hall toward his bedroom. As the others turn to follow him, I grab Jae’s arm.

“Can I talk to you for a moment? It’ll be quick, I promise.” Jae looks reluctant, but he nods. Yoochun pauses and eyes us with curiosity. “Why don’t we talk in my room? It’s private.”

I usher Jae ahead of me, toward my room. I can feel Yoochun watching us as he follows behind us in the dark hall. When I follow Jae inside my bedroom and turn to close the door, my eyes meet Yoochun’s where he stands in the doorway to his room. He nods and turns away, expression thoughtful.

I shut the door.

 _Finally._  Finally, we can get this over with.

Jae stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His hands are wrapped in the hem of his white t-shirt, twisting it. I know him well enough to recognize how nervous he is. Somehow, that makes it easier for me.

I start to speak, but he cuts me off, voice soft.

“I got your texts. There’s no need to apologize. Let’s just forget it and move on, okay?”

“I have to apologize, Jae. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He sighs, eyes downcast. “It’s okay, I know you were drunk.”

“It’s not okay. I crossed a line. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

He’s still looking down at the floor, twisting his shirt so tightly that the neckline stretches down, exposing his collarbones. A jolt of desire hits me and I look away guiltily.  _Talk about inappropriate._ I curse my body’s reaction to everything Jae.

“Our friendship is fine, Yunho. Really. We don’t have to go through this whole thing.” He motions his hand back-and-forth between us. “We’re good.”

I hear his words, but he still won’t meet my eyes. I frown.  _This isn’t right._

“Jae, it’s obviously not okay. You’re not okay. I mean, you say our friendship is fine, but you avoid me all day and now you won’t even look at me. Things are  _not_  okay.”

For the first time, he flashes me a glance. His enormous dark eyes look…scared?

“Talk to me,” I plead. “Tell me what I can do to fix this, to make things right again.”

He continues to stare at me silently, that same dark fear in his eyes. As I try to understand the cause of his distress, a wave of shame and self-loathing washes over me. It’s hard for me to look at him when I speak, but I do. I want him to know I mean it. “I know what you must think, but I’m not some…some monster who’s going to attack you again against your will. I understand why you believe that, but I’m not. I promise you.”

His brow furrows. His fear fades, replaced by a look of confusion. His hands stop twisting his t-shirt. “You think you  _attacked_  me?”

“Well, maybe ‘attacked’ isn’t the right word. More like forced myself on you. But it won’t happen again!”

Jae seems disconcerted. He’s studying me, his beautiful face etched with something like wonder. He shakes his head. “Yunho, you didn’t force yourself on me. You had a few drinks and you kissed me, and I…I kissed you back. That’s all. You didn’t force me to do anything.”

He’s blushing hard, but his voice is firm, no-nonsense.  _He’s telling the truth._ I’m stunned. And weak with relief that I’m not the beast I’ve been thinking I was. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. We look at each other in silence for a few minutes.

Memories of last night run through my mind. What he says now matches what I recall of our kiss better than the tortured imaginings I’ve been having all day.

“I don’t understand.”

He tilts his head. “What?”

“Why did you avoid me all day? Why is this so…awkward now?”

“Of course it’s awkward, Yunho!” He’s exasperated. “You can’t get wasted and kiss me and then expect me to act like nothing happened.”

He has a point, but I’m a little offended. “I wasn’t ‘wasted’.”

He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Drunk. Not yourself. Whatever you want to call it. You weren’t sober.”

“I really wasn’t all that drunk.”

Jae looks like he’s at his wit’s end. This stressful day must have gotten to him, too, because he’s visibly upset. He puffs out an irritated breath, then gives me a level look. When he speaks, I see he’s choosing his words with care. “Okay. Fine. So you’re saying you would have done the same thing sober?”

_This is getting dangerous._

I don’t know how to answer him. “ _Yes. In a heartbeat_.” I can’t say that. That doesn’t just cross the line; it redraws the map. It changes everything. He couldn’t handle that. Or…

_Wait._

It hits me. A slow dawning as I think back on what he said, what he revealed.

“Were you sober when you kissed me?”

His face pales. I’ve surprised him. His mouth opens and then shuts. Speechless. My eyes never waver from him, seeing everything so clearly now. My heart starts thumping faster in my chest.

“You were sober, weren’t you? When you kissed me back.”

He says nothing, but his hands are twisting his t-shirt again.  _Nervous._

“And I wasn’t drunk. So…maybe it would’ve happened anyway. No matter what. We did what we wanted to.”

Jae seems frozen in place. He follows me with wide eyes as I step closer to him, moving with caution. I think I understand what’s happening, think I understand what hangs unspoken in the air between us, but I could be wrong. After this long day of doubt and self-hatred, I don’t want to make a misstep now. Not now, when everything is about to come together. Glorious, wondrous, perfect togetherness. But one of us has to say it. One of us has to take the risk.

I mentally cross my fingers, take a deep breath, and leap.

“Jae, last night… I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

I take another step toward him. I’m close enough now that I can see the fine texture of his luminous skin, the sheen on his full lips, see each ebony eyelash that stars his questioning eyes.  _Beautiful._ But he’s so tense that his shoulders are hunched up around his neck, his hands clenched white, his lips trembling. He looks terrified.

I stop. The last thing I want to do is scare him. “Say something. Please,” I whisper.

“I don’t know what to say.” His voice is low, strained. His eyes flicker down to my mouth, then to my throat, then back up to catch my gaze again. He seems dazed. It’s exactly the way he was last night under the trees. It gives me hope. I try not to sound desperate when I speak.

“Say you wanted to kiss me, too. Say you want to kiss me right now.”

He looks like he’s going to faint. His skin blanches, paler than snow, making his mouth appear even more red and tempting. His eyelids flutter as he blinks rapidly. He swallows so hard I can hear it. He seems to be waging some sort of battle with himself, his inner conflict visible on his face as he stands there, frozen. It’s…really not the reaction I was hoping for.

Disappointed, I lower my eyes and start to back away.  _Maybe I misjudged him again. Maybe it’s too much too soon. I can understand that. I’m kind of overwhelmed myself, with all of the back-and-forth emotions I’ve had all—_

“I want to kiss you.” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear it.

When I look at him, heart racing in my chest, his dark eyes are steady on mine. His face determined. He clears his throat and speaks again, his voice stronger this time.

“Kiss me.”

 


	10. Kiss and Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YunJae share a kiss…or so. The new group starts their training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: This chapter is pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated.

 

—*—

 

Yunho steps closer.

He stands a footstep away, his expression serious, breath coming fast through parted lips. Even in the dim light of the room, I can see how his eyes burn with the same dark heat from last night.  _Desire._

My mind stumbles a few beats behind our conversation, still trying to understand what we said.  _Yunho wants to kiss me._ He wasn’t just drunk and experimenting last night.  _He’s wanted to kiss me for a long time._ It seems impossible that it’s true. I want to ask him a million questions.  _What do you feel? When did it start? What happens now?_  But it’s not the time.

_Kiss me._

I can’t regret saying it. Even though I know how incredibly stupid I’m being, I want Yunho’s kiss more than I want to keep breathing. I can’t deny myself this moment.

Yunho leans closer, so close I can feel the heat from his body, can scent his warm skin. For once, I don’t look at his mouth, too taken with the light in his earnest brown eyes, his intense expression.

He raises his hand to my face slowly, as if not to startle me. His palm cups my cheek, his thumb sweeping across the skin there to touch the corner of my mouth. He presses in a little, his eyes intent as he traces the outline of my lower lip. The pressure pulls my lip down, opening my mouth slightly, and he lets out a harsh breath. His other hand comes up, fingers sliding along my jaw to cup my other cheek and then he’s lowering his face to mine.

For a brief moment, his lips hover over mine, and we share a breath. I’m flushed with rising heat, pulse racing, wanting. Then his lips press mine in a tender kiss. As he fits our lips together, pressing gently but insistently, my eyes fall closed in pleasure. I kiss him back. Our lips graze, brush, meet and part. The slight friction of his soft lips teases me. He pulls away for a moment, then melds our lips together in another kiss, pressing firmer now. His mouth nudges me, molding against mine, our lips clinging.

His slicks his tongue against my lips, a hot, wet sweep, and I hear myself groan. He’s more insistent now, leading the kiss, parting my lips with a press of his thick lower lip between mine.  _Yes._  My heartbeat quickens and I can’t help myself, I pull it between mine and suck gently at it, like I’ve dreamed of doing.  _So good._

I can feel Yunho’s heart pounding where his chest presses against me, a slight rasp of stubble against my chin as he kisses me. My hands fall to his waist, clutching at the firm-muscled flesh there, his hot, smooth skin. My fingers hook into the belt loops of his jeans, drawing him closer. He freezes in place for a moment as a shudder runs through his body.

His hands drop from my face, one sliding down behind me to cup the back of my neck, the other moving down around my back to pull my body flush against him. His mouth slants across mine, our lips meeting and parting in a slow rhythm as our bodies press against each other, arching together. Long fingers glide up into my hair, tugging my head back, tilting my face, and then his tongue pushes into my mouth.

God, _yes._

Our kiss turns fervent, lips twisting against each other, breath coming in shuddery moans, as we lick deep into each other’s mouths. Our tongues meet in a hot, slick tangle as we strain against each other. I pull Yunho’s lean hips hard against me, needing to be closer. I can feel him through the rough denim, the thickening length of him pressing against my stomach. I’m swept by desire, waves of it rippling across my skin, making me shiver. Yunho tightens his strong arms around me, his hand stroking up and down along my spine, smoothing along the taut muscles.

I feel dazed, feverish, unable to focus my dizzy mind. I can’t believe this is happening.

_I’m kissing Yunho._

I’ve never felt this way before. Never been with someone I desired. I’ve always dated girls because there was no one else. No one like me. I liked those girls, but I never  _wanted_  them. I never dreamed about kissing them or touching them the way I do with Yunho. In relationships, I never did more than kiss, avoiding make-out sessions because I couldn’t fake it through. I tried so hard to feel passion, but my body stayed cold. For years, I thought there was something wrong with me, that maybe I just wasn’t a sexual person. I never imagined then I could feel desire like this: a burning low in my belly, a need to be so close to another person that you share their breath, every cell in your body crying out to connect.

And to share this feeling with  _Yunho_. My friend. My member.  _The one I love_. After years of pining for him, of watching his graceful body grow into the lean, muscular frame pressed against me, now I can touch him. After years of staring with hopeless longing at his luscious mouth and sharp jawline, now I can kiss him. After watching him charm others with his warm eyes and tiger smile, now he’s here. With  _me_.

_Is this really happening?_

I feel out of control, lost in a delirious heat. I never knew passion was so powerful. I never knew I could want someone this much. I can’t get close enough. Our kiss is all panting breaths and eager tongues. I can feel my heartbeat pounding through my body, can feel Yunho’s heart shaking him, beating so hard his fingertips tremble as they skate along my arms.

His fingers slide down my side to slip underneath the hem of my t-shirt, his hand cool on the hot skin of my back. We both moan, breaking our kiss. Yunho lowers his face into the crook of my shoulder, pressing a kiss there.

“God, Jae, you’re so beautiful.” He groans, lips moving tenderly against my neck. His teeth graze the cord of muscle there, biting me softly. Nerve endings light up wherever he touches, igniting my senses. It feels like a jolt of electricity leading straight to my core. I’ve gone hard as stone, rubbing myself against his sharp hip bone, craving friction. I slide my hands restlessly across his warm back, needing to touch as much of him as I can. It’s still not enough, and I groan in frustration, grinding my hips harder against him.

“ _Fuck_. So hot. So good.” He whispers the words, sucking lightly at my skin. A shudder runs through me and I arch my neck back, making space for him. He moves in greedily, tonguing the smooth skin, dragging kisses and gentle bites along my throat until I throb with want, pushing hard against his body.

“Yunho…please.”

He raises his head to look down at me. His eyes are all blown pupils, dark with desire. He seems as dazed as I am.

“What?”

I can’t speak. I can’t tell him what I need. Instead, I slide a hand up behind his neck and pull him down into a kiss, openmouthed and needy. He responds, eagerly meshing our mouths, devouring me. I don’t recognize the voice moaning as my own.

I’m lost in the magic of our kiss for a while, all thought whited out by the feel of Yunho’s lips, his hands fire on my skin. We kiss for long minutes, bodies entwined, rocking against each other in a rough rhythm. I’m mindless with need, spots of light dancing behind my eyes as I give myself over completely to sensation.

Then something hits the back of my legs, and I’m falling, Yunho on top of me. I break the kiss to look around.

We’re on Yunho’s bed. He’s sprawled on top of me between my legs, bracing himself on his arms to look down at me. His face is flushed, lips red and raw. I hardly have time to wonder how we got here when he’s kissing me again, languorous and melting.

“Want you so much,” he whispers in between kisses, breathless. “So beautiful.”

Yunho moves against me, his hard length pressing along mine. Each roll of his hips pulls another moan from me. I’m restless, desperate, arching up into him. Each touch sends sparks shooting under my skin. I feel like I could come like this, just from the pressure of Yunho’s lean frame against me. His hands push underneath my back, sliding down to tug me up against him, grinding harder. They slip lower still, coasting over the denim of my pants to slide into my back pockets.

He stops.

He breaks our kiss and looks down at me in puzzlement while his hand fishes around beneath me.

“What’s this?” He pulls a small, square object into view. A blue envelope.

He turns it in his hand and his brow creases. “Why is my name on it?”

It takes me a moment to focus, to register what it is. “Oh. Your sister told me to give that to you.” I hesitate for a moment, then continue. “It’s from Micha, I think.”

Yunho rolls off me to the side, looking at the envelope. He’s still frowning.

We lie together side-by-side on the narrow bed, both of us panting. My heart is racing and desire still shimmers through my veins like champagne bubbles. Yunho slides his finger under the envelope flap to open it.

He pulls out a piece of pale blue stationery and reads the neat handwriting inked on it. I gingerly run out my tongue to wet my lips, feeling how sore and swollen they are. I try to catch my breath, cool down my body.

I try not to read the note Yunho’s holding.

He sits up abruptly, folding the letter and stuffing it back into the envelope as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed. I feel foolish lying down now, so I sit up too.

“Is everything okay?” I’m dying to know what the letter says, but it’s rude to pry.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. She just wants to meet up with me.”

“Oh. I thought you guys were broken up.”

“We are. We still hang out sometimes.” He gives a short laugh. “My parents keep inviting her over, hoping we’ll patch things up. I think they hope we’ll get married someday.”

And that’s it. Reality crashes down on me. All the reasons why being here with Yunho is a bad idea come flooding back at once, unignorable and insistent. It’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water.  _Stupid, stupid Jae._

 I scoot over to the edge of the bed and move to stand up. Yunho catches my arm, halting me before I can rise.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.”                                                                                                                        

“Oh. You don’t want to stay a little longer?” He gives me a heated look that tells me exactly what he means by that.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He looks at me in confusion, sensing my withdrawal. “What’s wrong? Are you upset about something?”

“No, not upset. It’s just…this was a mistake.”

“A mistake? I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m mistaken this time.”

“Not that kind of mistake. I mean, it’s a bad idea. You know that. What if we’re caught?”

“We won’t get caught.”

“You don’t know that. What if we were? Would you be okay with leaving SM? With giving up your chance to be an idol?”

He scoffs. “ _Ssem_  wouldn’t get rid of us for messing around. He’d just give us a lecture and separate us.”

_Messing around?_  My heart gives a little lurch at his casual description. Tonight was one of the most profound experiences of my life, the deepest connection I’ve ever felt with another person. But for him? Messing around.

I sigh, focusing on the rest of what he said. “And how do you think he’d separate us? What do you think that would mean?”

He’s silent. We almost never talk about what being SM’s Golden Boy means. I’ve acknowledged the pressure he’s under, but I’ve never called him on the advantages, the preferential treatment he gets. But we both know it’s true. If we were caught, it might be pretty much as Yunho describes—for him. But I’d be out on the street within minutes, without even the “Sorry, Mate” speech. And thanks to my deal with  _Seonsangnim_ , the consequences of that would be dire.

No, there’s too much at stake. I managed to forget it for a short, blissful time, but I can’t again.

I shake my head. “It’s too risky.”

“Nobody will ever know. Other people here hook up.” He lowers his voice. “Other  _guys_  do. And nobody knows anything about it.”

I’m almost too startled by what’s he saying to be hurt by his use of “hooking up.”  _Almost._  Does he know about Heechul?

“What are you saying? Who are you talking about?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that it can be done.” He stops and looks at me, expression uncertain and voice faltering for a moment. “Don’t you want to be together?”

I almost give in. I feel the allure of him tugging at me, feel how easy it would be to fall into a covert relationship with him. I could be with him, kiss him to my heart’s content, explore our passion. I want that with a sudden fierceness that stabs me to the core. But it can’t happen.

I think about the offhand way he mentioned marrying Micha, how he talks about me at home as just another member. I think about Heechul taking Kangin back, again and again, after he cheats on him with girls. I think about losing everything I’ve worked for my entire life, just for the sake of passion. It’s easy for Yunho to talk about risk. All the risk is mine. If we’re caught, only I will lose my dream. Only my family will suffer. Only my heart will break.

_No._   _I can’t do it._

I push his hand off my arm and stand up. My legs are so shaky I almost fall. Is this how the aftermath of desire feels? It’s a new experience for me. And instead of enjoying it, reveling in the feeling of finally knowing what reciprocal passion feels like, I hate myself for the weakness.  _I know better than this._  I can’t keep doing this. I have a stolen moment with Yunho to treasure. Now I need to be realistic.

Yunho stands up too, watching me. The mood in the room is tense now. He senses that things have gone south, but doesn’t know why. He searches for something to say.

“Look, we’re both exhausted right now. It’s been one hell of a day.” He runs his hand through his hair, spiking it up in frustration. “Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow? Okay?”

I nod my head and walk toward the door. He follows me.

“Jae, I don’t know what’s wrong, but we can work this out. I know we can.” His handsome face is earnest, his eyes beseeching. “I want to be with you.”

I don’t respond, keeping my face averted. I don’t trust myself to look at him. I’m terrified I’ll give in. I open the door and bolt down the hall as fast as I can.

In my bedroom, the lights are still on. Yoochun is lying in his bed reading a magazine. He looks up at me when I come in, eyes searching. I see his gaze drop to my lips, and I quickly raise a hand to hide them, knowing how raw they must look. I turn away.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Just some unfinished business from our last project group.” I stand in front of my dresser, pretending to look through the drawers for something.

“Ah, of course.” His voice is carefully neutral. He doesn’t ask any more questions.

I get ready for bed.

 

—)(—

 

 

“ _Haruman nibangui chimdaega dwegoshipo,_   
_Oh baby…_ ”  


Jae sings the opening of our debut song for what feels like the hundredth time today. We’re at the end of our first week of sixteen-hour rehearsals and everyone’s worn out. Even our vocal instructor yawns and blinks back exhaustion as he listens to Jae sing. It sounds good to me, but apparently not to Instructor Cha.

He interrupts Jae. “No, no. You’re rushing the line. It goes like this.” He taps out a rhythm with his foot while he sings the line.

Jae watches with dead eyes. He’s so tired that nothing is sinking in anymore, and I know he’s going to make the same mistake again. I want to stand up, shout “Enough!”, and drag my members back to the apartment for some rest. But I can’t. We’re recording this song—our first official single as a group—soon and we’re not ready. Not even  _close_  to ready. But we don’t have much time. Somehow, we have to do in a few weeks what other groups have a year to do.

It’s our debut song. It will define our group’s image to all of Korea and determine whether or not we’re successful. If it flops, we’ll have a hard time recovering.  _Ssem_  says it’s almost impossible to change the public’s mind once they’ve formed an opinion. First impressions are everything. Our debut has to be  _perfect_.

And right now? We’re a mess.

Cha claps out the song beat as Jae starts singing again. Sure enough, he makes the same mistake. The instructor bows his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. I can almost hear him counting inside his head, trying not to scream with frustration. After a moment, he raises his head and speaks in a calm voice.

“That’s okay. Let’s worry about timing next week. Let’s focus on pronunciation instead. Say ‘oh baby.’”

“Oh, baby…”

Cha shakes his head. “No, that’s not right. Not ‘oh baebuh.’ Say ‘oh baybeh.’”

Jae tries again, looking down at the floor. He usually flinches from criticism, but for once he’s too tired to beat himself up. It hurts me to see him so drained. His lovely, dark eyes have lost their sparkle and his face looks drawn. Even his lips, usually so red and tempting, are a washed-out pink. I want to sweep him up in my arms and take him to bed.  _Maybe I’d even let him sleep._

He won’t let me near him, though. I’ve tried this whole week to get him alone so we can talk about what happened the night we kissed, but he’s managed to evade me every time. With a busy schedule and three other members constantly underfoot, it’s easy for him to avoid talking to me. Nobody’s even noticed.  _Except me._

I keep thinking back over what happened that night, what Jae said. I don’t understand what went wrong. Everything was perfect. Jae was  _perfect_ , hot and willing, his gorgeous face flushed with passion, his lithe body moving against me. Kissing him, touching him, feeling him respond, was better than any fantasy I’d imagined. We were both rock hard, grinding our hips together, panting. I could feel how close to coming Jae was. I could feel him throbbing against my belly, and it drove me nearly out of my mind with desire. Then the note from Micha seemed to trigger something in him, and he shut down. But what? He doesn’t think I’m still seeing her, does he? No, I told him I wasn’t.  _What happened?_

It’s not that I don’t understand his concern. He’s right about the consequences if we’re caught. And he’s right that it will go harder for him than for me, unfair as that is. But we won’t get caught. And if we are, I’ll find a way to protect him. Anyway, if that’s what worries him, why kiss me at all? Why let me know that he feels the same way? Why tease me by letting me get a taste of him, when he had no intention of being with me? Because if wanting him was hard when I didn’t know how he felt, it’s a million times worse now that I know he wants me back.

It’s torture living with him. I’m seeing so many new sides to Jae, and they’re all beautiful and desirable. His pretty face in the morning, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes, makes me want to drag him right back into bed. Seeing him wrapped in a floral apron, cheeks pinkened by steam as he cooks dinner for us, makes me want to throw him on the counter for deep, hungry kisses. When he’s getting ready for bed and brushing his teeth in the bathroom, sweatpants riding low on the jut of his hips, I want to drag him down and have my dirty way with him right there on the bathroom floor.

The torture comes from wondering if he’d let me. Now that I know how he feels, I recognize when he finds me attractive too. I see the way his eyes linger on my mouth. I see the hot light in his eyes when he’s watching me dance. I look up and catch him staring dreamily at my abs when I change shirts between practice sessions. And maybe I take a bit longer to change, running a slow hand across the ridges of the muscles there, just to see his reaction. He deserves a little torture, too.

So why aren’t we together?  _I don’t know._  I need to talk to him. To convince him we can work this out. I want him so bad I almost can’t think about anything else. It’s killing me.

_Thud!_

Junsu throws himself onto the floor next to me, dripping with sweat. He’s been practicing our dance routine in the studio next door. He leans against the wall and cracks open a bottle of water. He chugs a few swallows, then offers it to me. I accept it gratefully. While I’m drinking, he stretches his legs out in front of him and starts rubbing his thigh muscles.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow. I’m going to sleep all day. Then I’m going to eat, and drink, and then I’m going back to bed until practice on Monday.”

I grin at him. “That sounds like a good plan. I think we could all use the rest.”

“This schedule is crazy.” He shakes his head, uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t know how we’re going to last six months like this.”

I shrug. “We will. We’ll get used to it. The first week’s always the hardest. And once we debut, things should ease a little.”

He looks doubtful. “If you say so.”

“Yoochun! Come here!” Junsu and I watch as Cha motions the American over to stand by Jae.

That’s my other problem:  _Yoochun_.

I don’t know if he’s doing it on purpose, but he’s thwarted all my efforts to catch Jae alone. The two of them have really hit it off. At night, when I pass their shared room on the way to my single, I see them sitting on their beds talking and laughing. When Jae needs help preparing dinner, Yoochun’s right there to lend a hand. I never even get a chance to offer. Most frustrating of all, Jaejoong has been helping him with his singing like he used to help me. I should be glad that my member is improving and proud of Jae for helping him, but I’m not. I’m flat-out jealous of the time they spend together. I want all of Jae’s free time. I want his attention on  _me_.

I watch as Yoochun teaches Jae how to pronounce “baby” with an American accent. “Say ‘baybee.’”

“Baebee.”

Yoochun smiles and encourages him. “Close! Try again.”

I lean my head back against the studio wall and close my eyes so I don’t have to watch. Maybe I can grab five minutes of sleep while they’re practicing…

“You don’t like him, either, huh?”

My eyes fly open to find Junsu looking at me shrewdly.

“Who? Yoochun? I like him.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you thought it was unfair, too. He flies in here out of nowhere and gets put in a group right away, with no training. Even though he’s not ready yet.”

I look at Junsu in shock. I’ve never heard such bitterness in his voice or seen such dissatisfaction on his cherubic face. He notices my reaction and shrugs uncomfortably. “Sorry. I can’t help how I feel. It doesn’t bother you?”

“I guess I didn’t think about it. I assumed that SM wouldn’t put him with us unless they thought he was ready.”

Junsu narrows his eyes at Yoochun, speaking softly. “I think if he wasn’t from America, he wouldn’t be in this group. He wouldn’t be in any group. He’s years behind the rest of us.”

I don’t know what to say. He may be right, but so what if he is? Yoochun is our member now, and we have to get along with him somehow. If he’s behind, we have to bring him up to speed. Regardless of my own problems with him, I won’t let it interfere with our work.  _Our group comes first._

Junsu continues. “I’ve been training at SM since I was eleven years old.”

I nod. “I know.”

“Do you know how many project groups I’ve been in?  _Four._ Not to mention all my solo training. I’ve worked hard for five years to get this chance. And he gets a group after two weeks.”

I look at him with sympathy, understanding. “You can’t think of it that way. You have to look at who we are now and how we can make that work. Maybe he’s not the strongest singer—“

“Or dancer.”

“Or dancer—“

“And he has no  _aegyo_  skills at all.”

“Do they even have  _aegyo_  in America?”

Junsu stays stubbornly silent, glaring at Yoochun.

“Look, my point is that we have to stop seeing ourselves as individuals and start seeing ourselves as a team. Whatever talents we each have belong to the group now. Maybe you’re a better singer, but Yoochun’s language skills will help us in interviews. And eventually we’ll all be good.”

Junsu takes a long swig from the water bottle, his eyes distant. He’s unconvinced.

I’m thinking of what else I can say to him, when Cha interrupts us. “ _Yah_! Yunho, Junsu, get over here. And you…Changmin. All of you.”

We all wearily get to our feet and go stand by Cha. He arranges us in formation and then walks over to the equipment shelves to start the music. “Okay, let me hear the whole song from the top.”

We sing it for him. “Again! With more emotion this time.”

We sing it again. “Do you even know what tempo is? Again!”

Once more. “How can you be getting worse?”

_Because we’re tired._

Again. This time around, two men come and stand in the studio door. It’s Manager Pak and  _Ssem_  Soo Man. Their faces are grave as they listen.

When the last note fades,  _Ssem_  walks into the room. He nods at Cha, who bows deeply. Then he comes to stand in front of us. We’re silent as he strides up and down the row, inspecting each of us in turn. He doesn’t look happy.

He finally stops pacing. He motions to Pak, who hands him a clipboard.  _Ssem_  studies the papers on it for a minute. His voice is cold with displeasure when he speaks. “Are you aware that you’re recording this song in a few weeks?”

“Yes,  _Seonsangnim_.” We respond in unison.

“Do you think you’re ready? Do you think your performance is good enough for recording?”

We glance nervously at each other, not sure what to say. “No,  _Seonsangnim_ ,” I reply.

His face is stony as he continues. “I chose each of you for this group and for an accelerated debut because I thought you could handle it. I thought you were seasoned enough performers that you could quickly master new songs and routines like  _professionals_. What I see today is pitiful. It’s amateurish. It’s not the high-caliber performance SM groups are famous for. I’m disappointed in all of you.”

Shame washes over me. I’ve only heard those words from  _Ssem_  once before, when my recovery from surgery was taking longer than expected. It’s just as devastating this time around. I swore back then that I’d never disappoint him again, so I’ve let us both down.  _Humiliating._

As if sensing my thoughts,  _Ssem_  looks at me. “You need to step up, Yunho. As leader of this group, you’re responsible for their performance. Their failure is your failure.”

_Leader?_  I glance down the row and see the rest of the group exchanging puzzled looks. They’re as confused as I am. Especially Jae, in the leader’s position at the center of our lineup. Hesitantly, I speak. “With all due respect,  _Seonsangnim_ , Jaejoong is the oldest. He should—“

He makes a sharp motion with his hand, cutting me off.

“Your birthdays are close enough that age doesn’t matter. Seniority does. And your leadership skills are superior. Does anybody question that you’re better suited to the role? Do  _you_?” He fixes Jae with a hard glance. Just like on the day our group formed, there’s an edge of contempt to the way  _Ssem_  looks at Jae, the way he addresses him. And just like before, Jae turns red and bows his head, looking at the floor.

“No,  _Seonsangnim_. I agree. Yunho should be the leader.”

_Ssem_  nods and looks back at me. “I’ll return in a week to see you perform again. I expect you to be on target by then. Understood?”

“Yes,  _Seonsangnim_.”

He nods. He seems satisfied with my answer. With a last warning look down our lineup,  _Ssem_  turns and strides briskly from the room, Pak hurrying along behind him.

Shocked silence hangs in the room after they leave. We’re all stunned by  _Ssem_ ’s harsh words, by his ultimatum, and by his refusal to let Jae lead. I look over to where Jae stands, still staring at the floor, his face troubled. I don’t like the way  _Ssem_  spoke to him. With all the changes and activity of this past week, I’d forgotten about their strange behavior the day our group was formed. Something’s going on between them. I don’t know what it is, but I intend to find out.

_You're going to talk to me this weekend, Jae. Whether you want to or not._

 

_To be continued…_


	11. Raw Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new group enjoys a day off. Jae and Yunho have it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to write. Originally, it was much longer (8k words!) with a LOT of stuff happening all at once, but I decided to break it into two parts. I don’t know if this will answer your questions or just raise more questions. Guess we’ll see… ^^
> 
> As always, I ♥ your comments.

—)(—

 

“Your turn,  _hyung_.”

Changmin’s fingers tap out a restless tattoo on the dining room table. He’s teaching Yoochun to play Go-Stop, and it’s not going well.

“Wait… Go over the  _hwatu_ again.” Yoochun stares in confusion at the cards in his hand.

Changmin deals out some cards on the table in front of the American. “It’s easy. Look. These are the  _gwang_  cards. That’s a  _tti_ …”

The  _maknae_  runs through the different suits, his expression impatient. He’s been trying to get a game going all day, but Yoochun’s the only one interested and he hasn’t played in years. Junsu sits on a nearby armchair, reading and listening to the card lesson. Every now and then, a faint sneer crosses his face when Yoochun asks an obvious question.  _He really doesn’t like him._

I should do something about it, I know. Junsu’s resentment spells trouble for the group. But a small part of me, the part that dislikes how much time Jae spends with Yoochun, makes me let it go for now.

I glance over at Jae. He’s huddled on one end of the couch in the living room, playing with his bangs and talking on the phone. I think he’s talking to Heechul, but he speaks so low I can’t catch much conversation. He seems troubled. He’s shaking his head, and at one point says sadly, “You know I can’t do that.”

_Stop eavesdropping_. I drop into a chair near Junsu’s and stare at the group schedule Manager Pak gave me last night, trying to make sense of the crowded grid. Every day on the calendar for the next few months has notes scribbled on it: rehearsals, fittings, interviews. So much to do. So much to be responsible for.

I’m uncomfortable being chosen as leader over Jae, but I know  _Ssem_  well enough not to argue. He doesn’t make decisions like this on a whim. If he thinks I’m best suited to lead, then he must have good reasons for it. And guiltily, in my secret thoughts, I agree with him. Jae’s no leader. He’s come a long way with his performance skills, but he’s still shy and insecure and not the kind of person to take charge. Even though he’s my senior, I think of him as an innocent  _dongsaeng_.

I glance over at him again. He has the phone tucked between his chin and shoulder while he twirls a strand of dark hair around his finger. Nodding at whatever Heechul’s saying, he licks his lips, tongue flicking out to dab at his pink mouth. Heat spikes through me at the sight.

Okay, so my thoughts aren’t all brotherly.  _Or innocent._

I force myself to look away and focus on the grid of dates and events in front of me. Our recording date is coming up fast. And we have a showcase in September?  _That’s too soon._ The more details I see, the faster my heart beats. Panic sets in. Six months sounds like a long time, but when I see it all laid out—how much we have to do, how much we have to master, before the date marked “DEBUT” in big, red letters—well, it’s impossible. There’s not enough time. There’s no way we’ll be ready.  _I have to do something._

Pulling out my cell phone, I dial Pak’s number.

“What is it, Yunho?” He’s brusque, as always.

“I was looking over the calendar you gave me and—”

“Oh, the PR training? Is that what you’re worried about? I know it’s short notice, but we can’t afford to waste a single day.”

_PR training? What’s he talking about?_  I scan the schedule, frowning. Then I see it.  _Tomorrow._  It’s scheduled for tomorrow. That means today is our only day off.

“No, of course we can’t waste time. It’s just…” I hesitate, not sure what to say. I can’t say that I don’t think we’ll be ready in time for our debut. Because what does that say about us? That I don’t have confidence in my members? That we’re not good enough? That I’m a bad leader?

“We’re exhausted.” I finish lamely.

“I know. You’ve been working hard.” His words are kind, but his voice is unsympathetic. “Rest up today and you’ll be fine. It’s just PR training.”

 “Okay.” I agree, but I’m dubious.

“Okay. See you tomorrow. Eight a.m. sharp.” He hangs up.

_Crap. How am I going to break it to the others?_

“Yes! My win!” Changmin leaps up from the table with a fist pump, grinning and jubilant. It’s strange to see the quiet boy so exuberant.

“Okay. So…what happens now?” asks Yoochun.

“You pay a penalty,” says Junsu, jumping into the conversation with glee. “What did you guys bet?”

Yoochun shrugs. He doesn’t seem upset by losing, a good-natured smile on his face.

“Strikes,” says Changmin. “We bet strikes.”

Yoochun looks puzzled.

“He gets to hit you,” Junsu explains, his sulky face happy for the first time that day.

Yoochun’s smile fades. “ _Hit_  me? Like, punch me?”

“No,” I interject firmly, before the mischief glinting in Junsu’s eye makes him go too far. “He flicks your forehead or slaps your arm. Nothing painful.”

Yoochun looks doubtful.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” says Changmin, cheerfully. “Here. I’ll take a wrist slap as penalty. Give me your arm.”

Yoochun looks from face to face and sees no way out, so he reluctantly holds out his arm. Changmin grabs his wrist and holds it steady. He blows on two fingers through an evil grin, then draws back and strikes Yoochun’s wrist with a hard smack.

“ _Ow_! What the hell?” Yoochun jerks his arm away and clutches it to his chest, staring at Changmin like he’s a demon. I can see a red mark already forming where the blow landed.

Junsu looks impressed. He beams at Changmin. “ _Yah_ , that was good! You have to show me your technique.”

“Are you okay?” I ask the American, since nobody else is going to.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grins at Changmin. “You’re stronger than you look. I’ll remember this when I win the next hand.”

His cheerful good sportsmanship earns my grudging respect. I know that strike hurt, but he’s not making a big deal out of it.

“Let’s all play the next round. It’s fun with more people.” Changmin starts gathering the cards with a hopeful expression, seeing his chance to get a real game going.

“I’ll play,” Junsu flashes a sweet smile, but I suspect he just wants a chance to whack Yoochun. “But we should get something to drink first. I want  _soju_. Yunho, you in?”

“No, I need to sort out this schedule stuff.” I hesitate, looking over my shoulder at Jae in the living room.  _Should I tell them about tomorrow?_  Might as well, since they’re all here. “You probably shouldn’t drink liquor. We have a schedule tomorrow.”

Three sets of surprised, angry eyes glare at me.

“But tomorrow’s Sunday!”

“When are we supposed to rest?”

“No way. I have plans.”

I hold my hands up, defensive. “I don’t like it either, but we’ve got to go. If you saw how much we have to do between now and our debut, you’d want to go. Trust me.”

There’s some grumbling, and they exchange unhappy looks, but nobody argues with me.

“Now I  _really_  want some  _soju_ ,” says Junsu, grouchy. “You think Heechul’s around? He’s the only one with a fake ID.”

“I have one,” says Yoochun.

“You do? Let me see!” Junsu’s voice squeaks with excitement.

“It’s in my bedroom.” Yoochun turns and heads down the hall to get it, Junsu following behind, bouncing in anticipation.

It’s just me and the  _maknae_  in the dining room. I watch him shuffle the red-bordered cards. “You’re not going to drink, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No. My parents would kill me if I started drinking. Not to mention what SM would do to me. Not worth it.”

He’s surprisingly pragmatic about it. I nod my approval. “What year are you, anyway?”

“I’m 88.”

_So young._  I wasn’t close to being ready for debut at his age—no matter what I thought at the time. I’ve come so far since then. This kid must have something special for  _Ssem_  to put him with us.

“How does it feel to be in a group so soon?”

He shrugs, fanning the cards on the table. “Good, I guess. It doesn’t seem real.”

“I know what you mean. It’ll seem real once we start doing live stages.”

He frowns. “It’s hard enough balancing practices with school. But night performances and day classes? It’ll kill me. I’m too young to die!” His tone is joking, but there’s real fear underneath it.

“It’ll work out. It won’t be easy, but SM won’t give you more than you can handle. It’s not in their best interest to kill one of their next great  _hallyu_  stars, right?”

His wide mouth tilts into a small smile. “I guess not.”

“And you know you can talk to me if you feel overwhelmed. I’m always here to help if you need me.” I clap him on the shoulder in reassurance.

“Got it,  _hyung_.” He looks away awkwardly, like what I said was cheesy.  _Was it?_  I meant every word. At least he knows the offer is there.

Junsu races into the room waving a small plastic card. “Look at this!”

He shows me an American driver’s license with a blurry picture of Yoochun. I read the information out loud. “Michael K. Wells. 23 Chantilly Road, Fairfax, Virginia. DOB June 4, 1975.”

“Did you see? 75!” Junsu cackles with glee, waving the card at us like it’s a winning lotto ticket.

“You look good for an  _ahjussi_ ,” I tease Yoochun as he walks back into the room.

He smiles and gives an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, but it’s a decent quality ID card. My brother and I got them as a joke. There was a sketchy little shop near my house that made them for the local high school kids. The owner was Korean so she gave us a discount.” He scratches the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “I only used it one time, just to see if I could.”

“Did it work?” Junsu asks, wide-eyed.

“Yeah. It was almost too easy.”

“You’re not going to use it here, are you?” I’m alarmed at the thought of him getting arrested for trying to pass off false documents. He could be deported. Our group would be over before we started.

“No, of course not. I’m not stupid.” He nabs the card from Junsu’s hand and sticks it in his back pocket.

“Good.” I nod. Yoochun sits back down at the table and watches Changmin’s deft hands flip the cards.

Junsu looks around the group and realizes his drinking plans are shot. He sighs. “Well, let’s play cards. You want to play with us,  _hyung_?” He looks past me.

“Mm, no. I’m going to take a nap, I think,” Jae says right behind me, yawning. He watches with sleepy eyes as Changmin deals out three hands, then he starts down the hallway toward his bedroom. I follow close behind.

“Wait up,” I call after him. His shoulders tense at my voice and a sick feeling twists my stomach at his reaction.  _What did I do?_

He turns around to look at me, face calm and unreadable. “What’s up?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay.” His shoulders sag. “Okay, sure. Let’s go in my room.”

My room is more private and he knows it. I suspect that’s why he doesn’t want to go there.  _Why is he acting like this? Like he can’t trust me?_

I follow him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. It’s strange to be in here, in this space he shares with Yoochun. I look around. The walls are bare and suitcases lie half-unpacked on the floor. The room looks exactly the same as it did a week ago when we moved in, but I don’t feel welcome now.

Jae stands in silence for an awkward moment, then settles on the edge of his bed. “So…what do you want to talk about?”

I sit next to him so that we’re face to face. I’m determined to get some answers.

“Jae, what’s going on? Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not—“

“You are. You act like we’re not even friends anymore. And I don’t know why. What happened that night? I thought,” my throat goes so tight that my voice cracks, betraying me. I finish with a whisper. “I thought you liked it.”

I feel a flush spreading up my cheeks as Jae meets my eyes for the first time in a week, seeing my hurt. His frozen expression softens. “I did. It’s not that.”

“Then talk to me. You act like I’m the bad guy here, but I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“You haven’t done anything. It’s just…you want us to…to hook up, and we can’t. We can’t do that again.”

“Look. I understand why you’re nervous. I get it. I really do. But that’s only if we get caught. We won’t.”

“Yes, we will.” His voice is flat, as if reciting a fact.

I’m not sure what to make of his certainty. I frown. “How can you be so sure?”

He pauses to search for the right words. When he speaks, his voice is bitter. “Because it’s you. It’s us.  _Seonsangnim_  watches us too closely. If we were any other two people at this studio, we  _might_  escape his notice, but not you. Not me.”

His face is tight with restrained resentment and distaste. Realization jolts me.  _He doesn’t like Ssem_. I think about  _Ssem_ ’s contempt when he talks to Jae.

“What is it with you two? Why does he talk to you that way? Did something happen?”

Jae stays quiet, but he frowns, teeth worrying at his lower lip. He looks down at the blue bedspread, fingers toying with a loose thread, but he seems to be struggling with strong emotions. Apprehension prickles my skin.  _Something’s going on._  I don’t know what to do.  _Why won’t he tell me?_   _How can I make him confide in me?_

I reach out and clasp his hand on the bedspread. I pull it onto my lap, holding it gently between my hands, smoothing my thumbs across his soft skin. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, he raises his troubled gaze to mine.

“Talk to me, Jae. What’s wrong? You can tell me. I’m your friend.”

Jae’s face is pale, his expression anxious. I’m close enough to see the faint violet smudges of exhaustion under his eyes, the movement in his throat as he swallows. His gaze flicks back and forth between my eyes, jittery.  _He’s terrified_. I hold his cold hand tighter, trying to warm him.

“Jae, please. Tell me. What’s the matter?”

He’s trembling now, so frightened that he’s scaring me, too. We sit in silence for long moments while I watch him fight some inner battle. Finally, he takes a deep breath and speaks, voice whisper-soft and quavering.

“These feelings that I have for you… That we have. I’ve felt like this for a while.”

Despite my concern, his words send a warm pulse of happiness through me. “Me too.”

“No, I mean, a  _really_  long time.”

I’m taken aback. “How long?”

“Since before Four Seasons.” Jae won’t look at me again, lashes lowered to hide his eyes.

That’s…whoa, a really long time.  _I had no idea._  Happiness rushes through me again in a warm wave as I think about Jae wanting me for  _years_. Like a secret crush.  _How did I not see it?_  I squeeze his hand and smile. “Okay. I kinda like that.”

“ _Seonsangnim_  knows. He knows I feel this way.”

Shock makes my brain stutter to a halt. “ _What_? How could he know? Wh—”                            

“Do you remember when they announced Four Seasons and I was called to his office to talk to him?”

“Yeah, you missed the assembly.” I think back. “You were really upset.”

“Well,  _Seonsangnim_  didn’t let me stay because of Lim. I made that up because I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

Another shock.  _Jae lied to me?_  I’m afraid to hear the rest. But I have to know. “What’s the truth?”

He stares straight ahead, shivering a little. “He said he knew that I saw you as more than a friend. That I looked at you as a…as a man. He’d been watching me for a while, suspecting. He had my contract right there, and the termination paperwork. He asked me if I could think of a reason why he should keep a ‘degenerate’ like me. Could I think of even one reason why I should stay.”

Jae pauses. He’s staring straight ahead, tears in his eyes, remembering, “I told him I’d try harder. That my voice was getting better. But he said it was nothing special. He could get that from any other trainee.”

I can’t imagine  _Ssem_  saying those things. ‘Degenerate’? The man I know would never say that. There must be some misunderstanding. But Jae looks so desolate that I have to comfort him. I wrap an arm around his shoulders and hug him close to my side. “You have  _you_. There’s only one Jaejoong. And look how talented you’ve beco—“

“Yunho, please let me finish. This is really hard to say.”

I nod, waiting for him to continue.

“I had nothing to offer back then. And we both knew it. Looking back now, I realize how he manipulated the situation, but at the time I was desperate.”

He takes a deep breath. “He offered me a deal. He’d arrange for me stay, but there were conditions.”

My heart starts pounding, dread curling in my stomach.  _Conditions?_

Jae is whispering now, voice a thin thread of sound in the still room. “I had to promise to leave you alone. I mean, we could be friends, but I had to keep my…feelings to myself. He didn’t want you…brought down by me. Burdened by my ‘perversion.’ He said he trusted you, but not me.”

He laughs shortly. “I agreed. Why not? It seemed like a silly condition when we were both so sure you’d never feel that way about me.”

There’s another long pause while he blinks back tears. His hand is icy in my clasp, his body trembling. “I also promised to look out for you. To keep an eye on you. And others in our group.”

“Keep an eye on us?”

“Report back on you. To him.”

I recoil, dropping my arm from his shoulders. “You mean you’ve been  _spying_  on us? On me?”

Jae gives a tiny nod, looking at floor. His face is white to the lips.

“ _Why_? I don’t get it. He could  _ask_ me, and I’d tell him anything he wants to know.”

Jae’s voice quavers. “It’s not just you. It’s…it’s the people around you he wants to know about. Trainees who compete with you. Girls who get close. Your other members…”

A suspicion hits me.

“You know about Heechul and Kangin, don’t you?”

He nods, eyes downcast.

“You’ve been feeding  _Ssem_  information about them?”

He nods again.

“Why? If  _Ssem_  knows about them, why are they still here? If he thinks it’s a…a  _perversion_ , then why ignore it? It makes no sense.”

“I don’t know what he does with the information. I only give him an update now and then. That’s all I agreed to, I swear.”

I look down and realize that I’m still holding his hand. I drop it and jump up from the bed. I can’t bear to be near him. My palm is damp with cold sweat from his touch. I wipe it clean on my pants. My mind reels. I can’t think straight, my thoughts a jumble of the things Jae said. It all seems incredible.  _Impossible._  It can’t be true.

But if it’s true…

The betrayal cuts deep.

I don’t know whose behavior is worse or what to think about  _Ssem_ , but I feel cold anger rising for Jae.

“So, this entire time, you’ve snitched to Seonsangnim about everything we did. What kind of person are you? How could you do this to me? To Heechul?”

“Heechul knows.”

“ _What_?”

“He knows. I told him what I was doing. He’s okay with it.” He hesitates, then continues, eyes down, “I don’t think I’m the only person  _Seonsangnim_  has this kind of deal with.”

It’s too much.  _Does everybody know about this deal but me?_  “That doesn’t change what you’re doing. How could you be so two-faced? Is everything you’ve said and done a lie? Why would you agree to such a thing? You want to be an idol that badly?” I realize I’m shouting.

Jae looks stricken. His lips barely move when he responds. “If I leave SM, it’s over. It’s the end of my dream.  _Seonsangnim_  said he’d blacklist me. No other entertainment company will touch me. If it was just that, just me, then I don’t know. Maybe I’d risk telling him no. But our contracts… I can’t do that to my family.”

_What is he talking about?_ _Contracts?_ My mother handled all that.

Jae continues. “And I thought it might be better if it was me. Because I care about you—all of you, I mean. I thought I could maybe not tell him  _everything_ , you know?”

Jae looks at me, beautiful eyes pleading, searching my face for understanding.

_I can’t._

I can’t believe this happening. Can’t accept what Jae has done. There has to be a mistake. I can see  _Ssem_  asking Jae how I’m doing, checking up on me. That makes sense. He’s protective of me, I know. But forcing Jae to spy on me?  _No._

“Yunho, please say something.”

I shake my head. I feel dazed. “I don’t know what to say. I need to talk to  _Ssem_ and find ou _—_ “

Jae panics, leaping up from the bed with wide eyes. “You can’t! I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out I told you, but I can’t afford to leave. My family…”

“What do you want me to do, Jae? Just take your word that the man I’ve known my entire life, who is like a second  _father_  to me, is blackmailing my friends into spying on each other? Come on.”

“Why would I make this up? What reason could I have for making this up? What could I possibly gain, Yunho?”

_I don’t know._

None of this makes sense. I feel a low throb at the base of my skull, a headache building.

“Yunho, please…” Jae reaches a tentative hand out to touch my arm. I push it away and turn my back to him, heading for the door.  _I have to get out of here._

“You’re leaving?” Jae sounds fearful.

“I need to think. This is crazy.”

I grab the doorknob, but it turns under my hand and the wood panel opens in on me. My new members peer into the room with concerned faces.

“You guys okay?” Yoochun looks over to where Jae stands by the bed, hugging himself, tears on his face.

“We heard yelling,” Junsu explains. Changmin nods.

“Everything’s fine. I was just leaving.”

I push past them in the doorway and stalk down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind me. It’s childish, but it feels good to have an outlet for all these emotions.

I throw myself face-down on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. The sheets feel rough on my skin and even the dim twilight of my room seems too bright. Pain lances through my head with every movement as a migraine grips me.

I feel sick on every level. I trusted Jae. I can’t wrap my aching brain around his betrayal of that trust.  _If it’s even true._ But he’s right. What’s the point of making something like this up? If he doesn’t want to be with me—which he never claimed, come to think of it—then he could just say so. There’s no need to make up this insane story about  _Seonsangnim_  blackmailing trainees. 

No, I can’t believe it. It’s probably a simple misunderstanding that Jae has blown out of proportion.

It’s not like I mind  _Ssem_  knowing what I’m up to. I’m not doing anything wrong. My problem is Jae. How could he keep this secret from me? For  _years_. How could he look me in the face day after day, knowing what he was doing to me? That’s not friendship. And what about Heechul? What was Jae trying to insinuate with that “mine isn’t the only deal” talk? Is Heechul spying on me, too? Why? What would  _Ssem_  get from their deal?

My head throbs with pain as I mentally replay my conversation with Jae.  I think about every word that spilled from his beautiful, treacherous mouth, trying to make sense of it. But I have more questions than I have answers.

_I don’t know. I just don’t know._


	12. Persona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yunho gets a visit. The new group gets PR training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go: the second part of Ch 11 is now its very own chapter. I think you’ll see why I split it up. ^^
> 
> If this story continues as scheduled, I’ll be wrapping up Part One in the next three chapters. Soon, right? But don’t worry, that’s plenty of time for more YunJae than you all can handle. Trust me. ^^

 

—)(—

 

When I open my eyes, the room is dark.  _How long was I out?_ I cautiously move my head, but the stabbing migraine pain is gone. I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand. I feel groggy, drained. Part of it is the grueling schedule we’ve been working. Part of it is Jae. My stomach roils with stress as I remember our fight. I wish I could stay here in bed and pretend that talk never happened.

I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. Music and chatter filter up from the courtyard below my dorm window as the trainees celebrate their Saturday night. For once, I have no desire to join them. Their laughter seems to belong to a different world than the one I’m in. Here, in the dark of my room, nothing makes sense anymore. Everything that defines my world, that seemed so solid and sure a few hours ago, is in question now. I feel lost, adrift. Confused.

If I believe Jae, then I have to accept that my kind Uncle Sooman is a monster. And not just that, but that he’s made the people around me do monstrous things, too.  _No. I can’t believe it._

If I don’t believe Jae, then I have to accept that he’s…what? So desperate to get out of being with me that he’d make up a crazy story so I’d hate him? When a simple “no” would work?  _That makes even less sense_.

I want to believe this is all a big misunderstanding.

I scrub my face with my hands in frustration. There has to be a way to get at the truth. I can’t go to  _Ssem_. I picture standing in his intimidating office, surrounded by photos of the people he’s made into stars, and asking him if he’s blackmailed his trainees. I picture the look on his face at my question. No, that won’t work. True or not, I can’t do that. What else can I do?

Then it hits me.  _Heechul._

I pull out my cell phone and text him.

_> You there?_

I get a response right away.

 >Right here  
 >What’s up?

  _Where do I start?_ There’s too much to say. Texting won’t work.

_> I need to talk to you_

A minute passes. I stare at the shadows on the ceiling, waiting.

_> BRT_

_Huh?_ Is he coming over? I thought I’d call him. I’m tapping in a response when there’s a knock at my bedroom door.  _It can’t be…_

“Who is it?”

“Who do you think?” says Heechul, opening the door. He peers in my direction. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

He flicks on the overhead light, and I squint against the sudden flare of brightness. Shielding my eyes, I sit up, swiveling to put my feet on the floor. Heechul sips on an iced latte as he inspects my room. He shakes his head. “Wow, this place might be worse than your old room.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

“Mm. If you say so. This room seems more depressing, somehow.” He grabs the ladder-backed chair from my desk and drags it over to the bed. He plunks himself down on the hard wooden seat and crosses his legs, grinning. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

“I’m having a bad day.”

“So I’ve heard. You’re not the only one.” He looks pointedly in the direction of the hall.

That explains why he’s here. “Did Jae call you over?”

He nods. “He told me what happened.”

“What did he say?”

“That he finally told you about his deal with dear, old  _Seonsangnim_  and you freaked out on him.”

“Are you saying it’s true?”

Heechul takes a long pull on his latte, shrewd eyes assessing me. He’s silent for a moment as if weighing his words. Then he releases the straw from his mouth and sighs. He leans back in his chair, shaking his head. “Yunho, I love you to death, but you are one of the most naïve people I’ve ever met.”

I frown. That’s not what I was expecting to hear. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve led a very sheltered life. Do you know what the music industry is like? Not for  _you_ , but for people like Jae and me?”

He’s confusing me even more. I don’t understand what he’s asking me. “How is it different for you?”

“Most of us don’t grow up with the CEO of Korea’s biggest entertainment company as our doting godfather. We don’t have wealthy parents who can support us if we don’t make it as singers. We don’t have careers as lawyers to fall back on if we fail.” He gives me a direct look. “We’re all doing the same high-wire act, but some of us are doing it without a safety net. Do you understand?”

His words sting and I feel a flush creeping up my face. I don’t know if I’m angry at his implied reproach or ashamed that I never thought about it that way before.  _Golden Boy_. Because I worked as hard as everyone else, because I knew I was talented, I thought I’d earned that position. In my memory, Jae’s voice scolds me:  _Welcome to the real world, Yunho_. Okay, so I knew that I had a special relationship with  _Ssem_. Of course I did. But I never thought he let it influence his treatment of me as a trainee. Is Heechul implying he did?

“I know that not everybody has the same advantages I have. I’m not stupid, Heechul. But I don’t get what that has to do with Jae  _spying_  on us. No matter what, he still betrayed us. That was his choice.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge a situation you’ve never been in.” He wags a finger at me, but his eyes are kind. “I sympathize with you, I really do. I know this must all be a shock to you. I can imagine how hurt you feel right now. But I’m on Jae’s side with this one.”

“So you’re telling me that the CEO of SM Entertainment is blackmailing trainees? And forcing them to be spies? Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”

“Do you have any idea what goes on in this industry? I mean what  _really_  goes on, in the back rooms. Let me educate you. Remember that actress a few years ago? The one who committed suicide? After her death, it came out that she was being forced to prostitute herself to visiting businessmen by the CEO of her company. Or what about the company president who was jailed for raping his underage trainees last year?”

I remember those stories. They were in all the headlines.  _Tragedies._

I protest. “But those were extreme cases. That doesn’t happen all the time. And not at reputable companies like SM.”

“How do you know that? Because it hasn’t happened to you? There’s a whole dirty, cruel world out there that you know nothing about, Yunho. People who love you have worked hard to keep you from knowing about it. You’re lucky. The rest of us aren’t so lucky. The reality is that trainees and idols are forced to do terrible things. All the time. All over Korea. And yes, even here at SM. Passing along a little information about your friends isn’t so bad. To be honest, I think Jae got off easy.”

He sounds wistful.  _Envious._

“What’s your deal with SM, then? What did you agree to do?”

He answers in a velvet-soft voice. “That’s none of your business.”

We sit in uncomfortable silence. Heechul sips at the straw of his latte, downing the coffee in measured pulls. I perch on the edge of the bed, hands in my lap, overwhelmed by everything I’ve learned.

 _Jae’s telling the truth._ Seonsangnim _is making him spy on me—making other trainees do bad things._ It seems impossible. I can’t reconcile what Heechul is telling me with a lifetime of memories. He seems to think I can turn around and reject  _Ssem_. Accept he’s a bad guy and forget about everything he’s done for me, without giving him a chance to defend himself. It’s not that easy.

Haltingly, I try to explain. “ _Ssem_  has been so kind to me. He’s encouraged me and supported me my entire life. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I owe him  _everything_. And now you expect me to believe that he’s a monster, when I’ve never seen him do a single thing that wasn’t fair and honest. I can’t.”

I get up and start pacing. I need action, need to move as I sort things through. “I  _trust_ him. It feels disloyal to suddenly turn on him when he’s been nothing but good to me. But,” I stop and look at Heechul.

He meets my eyes with a calm patience that encourages me. I continue. “But I don’t think you’re lying to me. I don’t see why you would.” I take a deep breath, trying to quiet the distress in my voice. “I don’t know what to do.”

Heechul stands up and walks over to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. I’m struck again by how unusually sympathetic he’s being.

“I know. And I’m sorry. But I can’t help you. You have to figure this out on your own. All I ask is that you’re not too hard on Jae. I know you can’t see it right now, but in his own way, he’s been trying to protect you. He’s torn his heart out over this deal for years now, trust me on that.”

“You’re not upset that he spied on you and Kangin?”

He gives me a sharp look, dropping his hand from my shoulder. “Ah, so you know about that? I’m surprised he told you.”

“I already knew. I saw you two once. Together, I mean.”

For the first time since I met him, Heechul blushes. I didn’t think he knew how to blush.

“How…indiscreet of us. Well, there’s nothing to spy on anymore. That’s all done.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

There’s an awkward silence. Then Heechul clears his throat and says, “I know you have a lot to think about, but you should probably come out and let your members know that you’re okay. Everyone is worried about you.”

 _I’ll bet._  God knows what they think of the scene I caused today.

I nod. “I’ll be right out. Just give me a minute to pull myself together.”

Heechul inclines his head and moves toward the door.

“Heechul…”

He looks back, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done you any favors today.” He shakes his head, face troubled. Then he turns and walks out of the room.

I go over to the mirror and try to make myself presentable. My hair spikes out in every direction like a sea urchin. As I flatten it into place, I try to calm my racing thoughts. I have to convince my group that everything’s fine, that I have everything under control. I can’t fail them on my first day as leader.

When I finally look human again, I walk over to the door. I take a deep breath, open it, and force a smile.  _Showtime._

 

—*—

 

“What do we have here?” Raena, the PR director, stops in front of me and peers over the edge of her cat-eye glasses. She’s rail thin and tall, with blonde hair twisted into a severe knot high on her skull. I’ve only known her ten minutes, and I’m already afraid of her.

“Your name?” She gives the clipboard an impatient tap with her pen.

“Kim Jaejoong.”

“Jaejoong…” She makes a note on her pad, then studies it for a moment. “Oh. You’re lead vocals?”

I nod.

“Have you thought about your image yet? What persona you want to project?”

I don’t understand what she means. “Persona?”

“You know, are you the cute one? The sexy one? The bad boy?”

“I… I don’t know. Not the bad boy.” I fumble for a moment, trying to think of what would suit me. Besides the truth:  _the_   _brokenhearted one._  “Um… Maybe… I guess I could be cute.”

She scrutinizes me doubtfully for a minute, pen tapping her pursed mouth. “No. But you’re pretty enough. We can work with that.”

I bow. “Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say.

She squints at me again and makes another note before moving on to Changmin. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I’m out of it today. Exhausted and dazed. I was up almost all night last night, crying my eyes out after everyone else went to sleep. I held back my tears all day. After Yunho stormed out, I pasted a smile on my face and convinced my members that we’d had just a little disagreement. When Heechul came over, I told him what happened in a matter-of fact voice, calm. Then I smiled and helped him put everything with our group right again.  _I owe him for that._  When Yunho came out of his room and reassured everyone that he’s been cranky because of a migraine, I backed him up. When we all played games for the rest of the night, I sat and laughed my way through the entire evening as if nothing was wrong. But the moment Yoochun eased into the deep, even breaths of sleep in the quiet of our room, I let go.

I haven’t cried like that since I was little. It felt like I was drawing water up from an endless well of sorrow. My eyes were raw, every tear searing me as it slipped out. But I couldn’t stop. I kept flashing back to how Yunho pulled away from me in disgust, how he wiped his hand off on his clothes like my touch had stained him. And the look in his eyes… Lost. Anguished. Accusing. Like I’d stabbed him in the back. I always feared confessing what I’ve done. I always sensed that Yunho wouldn’t understand. How could he? But his reaction was worse than I’d imagined. And he’s right to feel that way. He’s right to hate me. _I hate myself._

This is the first time Yunho and I have fought like this. We’ve had disagreements, of course we have. But remarkably few. And he’s never shouted at me. Or looked at me like I’m…unclean. Like I’m evil.

_Like I deserve._

“Pay attention.” Yoochun whispers, nudging me from his position in our lineup. I shake off my dark thoughts and focus on the PR director. She’s talking about variety shows.

“…so we’ll do some mock interviews to give you an idea of what that’s like, okay?”

We all nod.

Raena looks at her clipboard. “Can I get Yunho and Junsu to step out here, please?”

They step forward from our lineup and go to stand by Raena.

Yunho looks tired today. I wonder if he had trouble sleeping last night, too. Probably. He’s got a lot to think about, thanks to me. His face is paler than usual and his eyes look puffy. But he’s still handsome. It feels wrong to admire him, to sneak longing looks at the graceful way he moves. To see his beautiful hands and remember how those long fingers brushed across my skin. But I can’t help it. Unwillingly, I stare at his mouth, feeling heat rise as I remember his lips moving against my throat, trailing desire in their wake.

Maybe he feels my stare because he looks over at me. For a brief moment our eyes meet, then his gaze slides past me, his face impassive. Like he doesn’t know me. It’s not that he’s ignoring me. No, he’s been polite. But he hasn’t had any contact with me that isn’t necessary. And he’s been distant. Formal. I might as well be a stranger.  _It hurts._  It hurts even worse because I’ve grown accustomed to his long looks that communicate so much: passion, understanding, affection, trust. Now when he looks at me, his gaze is blank. Empty, like the eyeholes of a mask.

I sigh. Heechul says Yunho is trying to choose between two people he trusted: me and  _Seonsangnim_  Sooman. No matter what he ends up believing, Yunho has to accept that one of us is not who he thought. That he’s been deceived. It can’t be easy.

I look back to where Yunho and Junsu stand side by side in the center of the studio. Raena is consulting her notes again, frowning. Her PR team stands silently along the back wall, waiting for her instructions.

“Okay, boys. Pretend we’re on a talk show and I’m the host. Answer these questions for me.”

She clears her throat and starts reading off a card. “Yunho, I understand you’re the leader of the group. What would you say is the hardest part of that role?”

Yunho cocks his head to one side. “The hardest part about being leader? Always having to go first.” There’s a twinkle in his eye and he gives a roguish grin, teasing Raena. My heart beats a bit faster at his effortless charm.

“Oh ho ho! Very nice.” Raena nods her head. She turns to the rest of us. “Did you all catch what Yunho did there? He told the truth about the exact situation he was in, but he did it in a charismatic way.”

She turns back to Yunho. “Never, never do that. It pokes fun at the host and makes you look disrespectful. Plus, it’s too…” She waves her hand vaguely, searching for the word. “Too  _meta_. You know?”

Yunho and Junsu exchange looks. They have no idea what she means.  _Me neither._

She turns her laser eyes on Junsu. “Now your turn.”

“Okay!” He squeaks with nerves.

“Do you have any special talents you could share with the audience?”

He’s puzzled. “I can sing. And dance.”

“No, no! That’s the obvious stuff. Is there anything you do that’s unique? Can you do magic tricks? Or impressions?”

Junsu thinks for a moment. “I can do an impression.”

“Oh, excellent! Those always go over very well. Who are you impersonating?”

“A dolphin.”

“A dolphin?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! You’re telling a joke.” Raena struggles to follow Junsu’s train of thought.

“No, it’s an impression.”

They look at each other, both of them completely confused.

“Why don’t you show me what you mean,” Raena says.

Junsu nods and clears his throat. He holds still, concentrating. Then he lets out a piercing, high-pitched peep. 

“See? Dolphin.” He nods, a big smile on his cherubic face. He’s pleased with himself.

Raena stares at him, trying to guess if he’s serious or not.

He smiles back.  _Sincere_.

She raises an eyebrow almost to her hairline and looks over at her team. A short man with bright orange hair shrugs and grins as if to say “no idea.” Raena turns back to her clipboard and furiously scribbles notes, shaking her head.

Sighing, she says, “Why don’t we have…Changmin come join our variety show?”

He moves to stand nervously by Yunho, who gives him a reassuring smile.

Raena says, “Okay. Changmin, the adorable  _maknae_. Let’s see what you’ve got. Tell me about a problem you have with one of your  _hyung_ s.”

Changmin is petrified. He shakes his head. “No.”

“No? You don’t have problems with them? Or you won’t tell me?”

“I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me.”

Raena gives a strained smile. “Remember that you’re on a variety show. Just make something up.”

He swallows. “I don’t like the way Junsu cheats at Go-Stop.”

“ _Yah_! Don’t tell Korea that I cheat at cards. I don’t cheat!”

“She said to make something up!”

“Alright, calm down.” Yunho interrupts them. “He’s trying to answer her question. It’s just practice. Let’s listen to what the director has to say.”

Raena seems speechless. She looks at us like a scientist encountering strange new life forms: part fascination, part horror. If I wasn’t so miserable, her reaction would be funny. Are we really as hopeless as her expression suggests?

“Excuse me for a moment.” Raena bobs her head at us and crosses the room to her team. They gather around her in a huddle, whispering.

“I guess they were expecting us to already know how to act,” Yoochun says, grinning at me. Yunho looks over at him. Then he gives me another dismissive glance before turning to Junsu. They speak in low voices to each other while Changmin listens, nodding. None of them look our way again.

“I guess so.” I force a smile.

“I’m surprised too, to be honest. I thought you guys had been training to do this stuff for years. You know,  _aegyo_  and all that.”

“Well, we have cute acts ready, but nobody taught us what was good. We just figured them out on our own. And how are we supposed to have funny stories about our members when we only met a week ago?”

Yoochun nods. When he smiles, he gives his whole face over to it, beaming at me. I’m grateful for his friendship today.  _I like him_. He and I just… _click_  somehow. I’ve spent this past week getting to know him. He’s told me about his life in America—which is not the glamorous place I always thought it was. Even from the little I know about his life there, I can tell that Yoochun was unhappy. He had to support his family like I did, taking whatever work he could find. I know he misses them. I hear the sniffles from his bed at night, as he cries quietly to himself. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for him here at SM. He’s a bit of an outsider, like I was.

And the others in the group haven’t exactly been welcoming. Yunho gives him strange, dark looks all the time. Junsu reveals a mean streak around Yoochun that I never imagined the little angel had in him. And Changmin is a cipher. I haven’t been able to get more than a few words out of him this whole week. Yes, thank god for Yoochun’s smiling face.

“Okay, listen up. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Raena claps her hands briskly and gestures for us to stand together in front of her. “I was under the impression that you’d all had some PR training before, but it seems I’m mistaken. We’re going to break into one-on-one sessions to go over some basic rules and decide on a persona for each of you. Then I want to talk about your plans. Okay?”

We all nod.

“Okay! Let’s reassemble in a half hour.”

The short man with orange hair approaches me. “Jaejoong? I’m Jaejin. Come with me, please.”

I bow and follow him to the rear of the studio.

“Let’s have a seat while we talk,” Jaejin says. He’s plump, with a round, cheerful face. He’s not scary like Raena is.

Jaejin asks me a lot of questions about my background and my likes and dislikes. I try to answer with charisma, like Raena said, but I can’t focus. I keep thinking about Yunho. I wonder if he hates me now. I wonder what’s going to happen to our group if he and I can’t get along. How are we going to live together?

I snap out of my daze when Jaejin starts going over some basic PR rules: Never speak negatively about the company or my other members. Never brag. Never criticize other groups. Use formal language unless specifically invited not to. Remember that reporters are not your friends. Treat the fans like your sisters and aunts. Public dating is forbidden. On and on. There’s so much to learn that my head starts to hurt.  _I’ll never remember it all._

Finally, I hear Raena’s sharp clapping again. “Time’s up! Assistants, please come share your results with me. The rest of you, please be patient while we consult.”

Jaejin gives me a sad smile, then jumps up to join Raena and the others in their huddle.

I lean back against the studio wall, tired. I feel boneless, limp. I don’t want to move. I close my eyes for just a moment…

“Jaejoong!” The voice sounds right in my ear. I jump, startled. Yoochun is shaking my shoulder. “Wake up. You have to come join us.”

I look over and see everyone, members and PR team alike, standing in a group, watching me. Yoochun helps me up and we walk over to the group. I’m groggy and disoriented from my surprise nap. Raena gives me a disapproving look.

“Glad you cared enough to join us.” Her tone is sour.

“Please forgive me.” I bow low.

“I hope you intend to take this training seriously,” she says, her voice stern. “You’ll be representing SM Entertainment to the public. It’s critical that you understand what’s expected so you can present the correct image.”

I bow again, chagrined. Jaejin looks down at his notepad, uncomfortable. Yoochun stares at the floor, embarrassed for me. Out of habit, my eyes search out Yunho for support. He gives me one of those blank, distant looks and then his eyes flit away. I feel like I’ve been slapped. I didn’t realize until now how much I’ve grown to rely on him for strength. How much reassurance I got from the knowledge that he cares about me, believes in me. I feel like I did when I first started at SM, before Yunho befriended me: outcast, alone, insecure.

I don’t have time to dwell on it, because Raena is speaking again.

“We’ve looked over your interviews and chosen a persona for each of you. Think of them less as masks or characters you play, and more as guidelines for your behavior.”

At our confused looks, she explains. “So, let’s take Yunho. His role is Leader, and that goes well with his persona of Manly. So we would expect him be straightforward, decisive, strong—but always with charm and humor. He should be outgoing, not pushy. Brave, not bullying. Encouraging, not bossy. Right?”

Blank looks from all five us.

Raena grits her teeth. “It will be clear in time. We’ll work with you to nail down the details. But here’s what we’ve decided. As I said, Yunho is Manly. Yoochun, you’re a Dandy. Changmin, you’re Cute.”

Changmin and Junsu shoot each other a startled look.

“Junsu, you’re Charismatic. And Jaejoong…” she shakes her head. “You’re the Visual. We’ll create a Mysterious persona for you. Your job is to look good, rather than be charming. You should speak rarely. Think: cold. Think: fatal beauty.”

She’s trying to put a good spin on it, but what she’s really saying is “shut up and look pretty.”

I look at the floor, too humiliated to speak. Some small part of me waits for Yunho to speak up, to defend me like he usually does, but nothing.  _Silence._  I blink back tears.

Raena keeps talking. “You should also start thinking about names for your group. I spoke with Lee Soo Man about your concept. It’s very exciting and symbolic. All charms and magic. Think: casting a spell on the world with your music. Powerful.” She nods her head with reverence.

She flips through her notes again, then lowers her clipboard. “Well, that’s it for today. I know it’s a lot of information to process at once, but you have a few months to nail it down before your showcase.”

“Showcase?” Junsu asks, looking around at us. We shrug. We’re all as clueless as he is. Well, almost all of us.

“I didn’t have a chance to tell them yet,” Yunho says. He shoots Junsu an apologetic look.

“They don’t know? Oh. Well, in September, you’re doing a showcase. It’s like a dry run of your performance for a small, local audience. We can get a sense of how the public will respond to you and tweak whatever’s not working before you go on TV in front of the entire world.”

My stomach lurches with nausea at her description.  _The entire world._

“You’ll also be doing interviews and appearances between the showcase and your official debut to start building a fanbase. So, really, you should think of the showcase as your pre-debut debut. You have a lot of work to do if you want to be ready.”

My stomach lurches again just thinking about it. Part of me is excited.  _My first showcase_. It’s my first time performing on stage as an official SM entertainer.  _My dream._  But part of me thinks back over this past week and our disastrous practices, our terrible performances, the reprimands from our coaches. Not to mention our relationship problems. Can we fix all that? Is there time?

_September is two months away._

 


	13. Stupid in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new group records their first song and spends a day off at the park. A photoshoot gets weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re not sure, this is the photoshoot mentioned in this chapter: http://sharingyoochun.net/2010/03/09/pic-tvxq-the-1st-story-book-hug/
> 
> This part is fluffier than I planned, but I’m okay with that. Enjoy!
> 
> Comments are ♥.

—*—

 

We’re half-asleep from boredom. Manager Pak walks into the sound studio lounge. “Everybody here? Good. Ready for the playback?”

 _Yes!_  So ready. We’ve been in this small, stuffy room all day, killing time between takes. When we weren’t recording, we played cards and practiced our routines, but time still ticked by in slow motion. It would have been unbearable, but a steady pulse of excitement kept us going.  _It’s finally happening_. We’re in the studio, making our first song.

Today’s the test. Were our past few weeks of relentless practice enough? We’ve learned not just to sing the song, but to  _perform_  it. Pronunciation, timing, emotion—it all has to be perfect today. This track is the song SM will release to music stations. We’ll hear it on the radio. We’ll be known for it.  _Our_ song.

And now we get to hear it for the first time.

We follow Pak down a maze of narrow hallways until we reach the main sound room. A crowd of people stands around in there: technicians, coordis, PR assistants. Jaejin scribbles notes on a legal pad as Raena dictates to him, her hands sketching details in the air. S _eonsangnim_ sits next to them, arms folded across his chest and foot tapping with impatience.

As we file in, the low buzz of noise increases. Everyone turns toward us, faces expectant. I can feel the anticipation in the air.

Pak lines us up along the wall in front of the crowd. My members are as excited as I am. To my right, Junsu bobs up and down with restrained energy, while Yoochun wears a wide, expectant grin. To my left, Changmin’s eyes dart around, taking in every detail, missing nothing. Only Yunho looks subdued as he listens to Manager Pak’s whispering.

Yunho’s been so serious recently, shouldering his new responsibilities as group leader. Exhausting as our group schedule has been, his is even worse. Yunho stays out for hours after the rest of go home, coordinating details with staff and making arrangements for our debut. Lying in bed late at night, I hear his soft footsteps as he paces the hall. His eyes are tired in the mornings as he ushers us out the door for our scheduled activities. He’s growing up fast.

I wish I could comfort him or carry some of his burden, but he won’t let me close. He treats me with the same neutral politeness he’s shown me since our fight. Like our years of friendship never happened.  _I can’t bear it._

Raena claps her hands sharply. “Attention, please!”

The room quiets.

“It’s been a busy and stressful few weeks, hasn’t it? So much to do and so little time to do it. But we made it! Everyone here worked hard to make this day possible. Especially these five young men. Let’s give them a round of applause.”

There’s a spatter of polite clapping.

“The raw recording you’re about to hear still needs post-processing, but the general sound of the group is there. So without further ado, let’s listen to ‘Hug’ by rising stars SM5!”

 _SM5_? We all give each other startled looks. That’s the first we’ve heard of the name. Then the music starts.

 _Chills_.

I’ve heard recordings of us singing together before, but it’s not the same as listening to an official playback that will be heard by all of South Korea. All of  _Asia_. I look around the room at the attentive faces. People are nodding their heads in time, smiling. Even  _Seonsangnim’s_  foot-tapping is on the beat.

Our song is good. It’s  _good_.

 _So happy_. I grin and look at my other members. Yoochun and Junsu smile back, eyes dancing with joy. Changmin looks amazed, stunned delight on his face. I laugh at the sight, then my eyes suddenly connect with Yunho’s. He looks at me with warmth for the first time in weeks. This song, this moment, is our dream come true. How many times over the years have we talked about being where we are right now? I look into Yunho’s shining eyes and all the bad feeling between us disappears. He smiles at me, and it’s like the sun coming out after a storm. Our old affection tugs at me, a slender thread connecting our hearts. Then, suddenly, as if remembering he hates me, Yunho lowers his eyes and turns away.

 _Pain_. After all these weeks of him ignoring me, it should hurt less. But it doesn’t. Seeing him every day as he avoids my gaze, being close to him but never touching, seeing new sides to his personality as he ignores me—it’s heaven and hell at the same time. I’m still stupidly in love with him and falling harder every day. No matter how much I remind myself that it’s hopeless, I can’t seem to stop.

The last notes of the song fade and there’s silence for a moment, then the gathered crowd bursts into applause. Amid the cheers and whistles, we bow awkwardly in thanks.

Raena applauds too, in her usual brisk manner, then addresses the room again. “Of course, it still needs polishing, but you get the idea.”

She turns to us. “If you’d told me when we first met that you boys would record a song of this quality in a few weeks, I’d never have believed it. You’ve come a long way in a short time. You should be proud.”     

As we bow,  _Seonsangnim_  comes over to us. He nods at Raena and then faces us. “She’s right. You did well. I hear that some of you need to work harder.” He fixes Yoochun with a sharp look. “But overall, I’m pleased with your performance.”

 _Did well? Pleased?_  That’s high praise from  _Seonsangnim_. He’s usually stingy with compliments.

He turns to Yunho and claps him on the shoulder, a smile creasing his face. “Good job getting everyone up to speed.” 

Yunho shakes his head. “I can’t take credit. They were all diligent and hardworking, putting in extra time.”

 _Seonsangnim_  must be in a good mood because he nods and looks approvingly down the row at the rest of us. “Commendable, all of you. You’re starting to realize the potential I saw in you. Keep up the good work.”

He starts to turn away, but Yunho stops him. “ _Ssem_ , the name… That’s us? SM5?”

 _Seonsangnim_  waves a hand airily. “That’s what we’re calling you while we come up with your official name. Right now, we’re thinking of ‘Dream Team.’” What do you all think?”

 _I don’t like it._ The other members nod cautiously.

“Dream Team,” says Junsu, rolling the words on his tongue. “It…rhymes.”

“It has layers,” adds Changmin. “Layers of meaning.”

 _Seonsangnim_  nods. “That’s the idea. Nothing is set in stone yet, so don’t get too attached to it. You should start thinking of stage names too.” He turns to Raena. “Are you working with them on that?”

She nods. “It’s on our agenda. Actually, if you have time, I’d like to review the promotions we have planned.”

Seonsangnim nods amiably.  _He’s in a_ really _good mood_. He turns to Yunho. “I want you to join us. You too, Pak.”

We watch as they leave the playback room, and then we face each other.

“What was that about you needing to work harder?” Junsu asks with an innocent look.

Yoochun flushes. “I had trouble with my part. They told me that it took twice as many takes for me as it did for all of you.”

“That’s okay. You’ll get better. It was hard for me at first, too. I didn’t know the microphone exaggerates every little sound you make,” I reassure him.

“Yeah, they said that I breathe too loud. But how am I supposed to sing without breathing?”

“You need a lot of training to learn how. It takes a long time.  _Years_ , even,” says Junsu. His voice is friendly, but his eye has a hard glint. It’s become obvious over the last few weeks that he has a problem with Yoochun, but I don’t know why.

Yoochun answers mildly, as he always does. “I’ll just have to try harder to catch up with the rest of you.”

Before Junsu can respond, Raena and Pak return.  _Where’s Yunho?_

“Good news, boys! You have the rest of the day off!” Pak spreads his arms magnanimously, as if conferring a blessing on us.

“Yes, you’ve earned some free time after all your hard work,” Raena says. Then she peers sternly at us over the top of her glasses. “But don’t go wild. You need to look rested for your photoshoot tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the salon in the morning for your makeover consultations, okay?”

“Yes, Director- _nim_ ,” we say in unison.

She nods and then walks over to a waiting Jaejin.

“What should we do this afternoon?” Yoochun asks. We look at each other for suggestions. We haven’t had a day off in weeks.

“Let’s see a movie,” says Changmin.

“No, let’s go to a  _noraebang_ ,” Junsu says.

“You just want to an excuse to drink.”

“Who needs an excuse? I want to have fun today!”

“I don’t want to be cooped up in a  _noraebang_. Can’t we do something outside?” Yoochun interjects.

While we’re debating our plans, Yunho slips back into the room.  _Where has he been? Was he with_ Seonsangnim _all this time?_  He looks troubled. He glances my way and our eyes meet—and hold. It would be a stretch to call his gaze  _friendly_ , but it’s no longer cold. And today he’s actually looking at me, not through me, for the first time since our fight. A fragile emotion flutters my heart.  _Hope._

 

 

—)(—

 

 _It’s beautiful here._ The sun hangs low over the river, its warm light gilding the ripples. I walk along the bank, hands in my pockets, breathing in the sharp, green fragrance of cut reeds along the shore. Across the water, my members are stretched out on blankets under a tree, the remains of a picnic scattered around them. Junsu is sleeping, it looks like, while Changmin picks at the leftovers. Jae and Yoochun sit together, as usual, looking at something on Yoochun’s phone. A now-familiar jealousy twists my stomach at the sight of their heads tilted so close together

I had to get away for a few minutes. Out here in the fresh air, away from the constant demands of schedules and practices, I can think clearly.  _I have a lot to think about._

A few meters down the bank, I spot a short wooden pier jutting out into the water.  _Perfect._  Pulling off my sneakers and socks, I wiggle my toes against the hot planks as I walk to the end of the dock. I dangle my legs over the edge to soak them in the slow-running water below, leaning back on my arms to watch the sunset.

_What am I going to do?_

I’ve been thinking for weeks about my fight with Jae, and I’m still torn. I can’t accept that  _Ssem_  is the terrible person Jae and Heechul says he is. And asking him is still not an option. But as I keep my eyes open for anything that would confirm what my friends said, I start to notice things about him that I never picked up on before. A cold tone when he speaks about employees at the studio. A certain…callousness when he talks about the trainees. Like today, when we discussed Yoochun.

“His performance today was not acceptable,”  _Ssem_  told me. “All of those extra takes cost money. And they make SM look unprofessional.”

“With respect, it’s his first time in the sound booth,” I said. “He did okay for a first time.”

“’Okay’ doesn’t cut it. We don’t have time for ‘okay.’ It doesn’t top the charts. It doesn’t earn golden disks.”

“I talked to him already,” soothed Pak. “He promised to work harder and show a better side for the next recording.”

“Do you think he can?” asked  _Ssem_ , turning on me. “Can he be ready in time? Or should I cut him and move up a trainee from a project group?”

“Where would Yoochun get moved to?” I asked, taken aback.

 _Ssem_  shrugged. “Back to America.”

He said it so casually, as if he didn’t know how much depended on Yoochun staying here. As if he didn’t care how hard life had been for Yoochun and his family back in the States. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard  _Ssem_  talk about trainees as if they were pawns in a game or pieces in a puzzle to be solved, but it was the first time it struck me as  _wrong_. I’d always seen it from his perspective as the person in charge of a successful business. So many people depended on him for their livelihoods. He couldn’t afford to coddle one trainee if it meant dozens of others would suffer. But there had to be a better way.

 _How can he be so quick to throw people away?_  The thought nags at me. I don’t accept that he’s a monster, but I’m starting to think Jae’s story is true.

 _Jae_.

I look across the water to where he sits on the blanket. Everyone’s lying down now, except him. He’s leaning back, face tilted to catch the last golden rays of light. The breeze tangles in his dark hair, blowing long strands across his pale forehead. He closes his eyes, a peaceful smile on his lips as he enjoys the warm evening. My heart aches at how lovely he looks. But the ache is more than appreciation for his beauty. And it’s more than the familiar throb of desire.

 _I miss him_.

Somehow over the past few years Jae’s crept under my skin and become one of the most important people in my life. These past few weeks have been hell without him. I miss talking to him. I miss being able to tell him anything, knowing he’s on my side. I miss the way he fusses over me, preparing food for me and looking out for my health. I miss the satisfaction of making him laugh, that husky, hiccupping laugh of his. I miss his stories about the  _ahjumma_ s at the food market. I miss the wonder and innocence in his eyes. I miss all the little moments we’d spend together, just enjoying each other’s company. He’s woven into the fabric of my days so completely that I can’t pull at a thread without finding Jae. He’s not just a friend; he’s become part of me.

That he’s also the most beautiful person I’ve ever met and my body craves his touch is only a small piece of how I feel.

 _What does it all mean?_ I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do with these feelings for Jae. I don’t know what to think about  _Ssem_. I don’t know what to do if the things Heechul and Jae said are true. Do all my members have some kind of deal? How can I help them? It all feels overwhelming. I need more time to sort things through, gather more information. I can’t rush into any decisions that would hurt the people I care about.

It’s getting late. The sun is a small sliver of red on the horizon, and dusk hazes the riverbanks. It’s so dark that I can barely make out Jae across the water now. Spots of soft light glimmer in the shadows under the trees, and I smile to see them.  _Fireflies_.

As I watch the last light fade from the summer sky, two things shine clear in my mind:  _I’m going to fight for my group. And I need Jae by my side._

 

—*—

 

“What do you think,  _hyung_?” Changmin inspects his new look in the mirror of the dressing room. He looks doubtful as he tugs on the bangs framing his face.

“I like it.”

“You do? The blond streaks…I don’t know. It looks weird.”

“You heard what Raena said to the stylist about it looking “cute” and “fresh” to go with your image. I think it suits you.”

He frowns and turns away from the mirror. “I guess it could be worse. I could have Yoochun’s hair.”

We both turn to look at the American. He looks back, patting his mahogany bangs defensively. “What?”

Privately, I think I got lucky in this makeover lottery. All they did to me was razor-cut the ends of my hair. No bleach. No dye. No weird bangs or bowl cuts. They didn’t even wax my eyebrows like they did Yoochun’s. He’s caked with BB cream to cover the raw, red patch between his eyes.

Jaejin pokes his round face into the room. “Are you guys ready? Raena’s waiting for you.”

“Yunho and Junsu are still in there,” says Yoochun, pointing to the salon area.

“I’ll check on them. Why don’t you guys go talk to Raena?” Jaejin shoos us out.

Outside the dressing room, it’s chaos. Technicians are everywhere adjusting lights, setting props, rearranging the set. A wardrobe  _noona_  checks the tags on a rack of costumes against the list in her hand. Rock music blasts from a boom box by the camera tripod. Maya’s “Azalea.”  _I like her sound_.

Raena is talking to a scruffy-looking  _ahjussi_  in aviator shades and rolled up jeans. She sees us and beckons us over.

“Boys, I want to introduce you to Yoo Woojin. He’ll be your photographer today.”

Everyone bows.

Raena explains that this is the first part of the photoshoot. Later on, we’ll do some outdoor shots. “Right now, the focus is on personality. Remember what we’ve discussed about your persona and think of ways to project that in your photos.” She looks past us. “Ah, there you are.”

Yunho and Junsu walk up behind us. Junsu looks very…blond.

I steal a quick peek at Yunho. He doesn’t look that different, yet somehow he’s even more beautiful. They’ve lightened his hair to a deep brown and given him a razor cut like mine, only more tousled. Even with all the makeup, he’s handsome and masculine.  _Girls are going to love him_. Jealousy pricks me.

We’re all wearing casual clothes in bright colors. If I had to guess our concept I’d say it was “sporty.” But I also saw some school uniforms on the wardrobe  _noona_ ’s cart, so I don’t know.

Yoo says, “We’re playing with a lot of different ideas for this shoot today. Raena has big plans for you guys.” He grins at her. “Right now, I want to focus on the group shot, then later we’ll break you into smaller groups and do some individual shots.”

Raena nods. “I know you’ve all had photoshoot training…” She trails off as Yoochun raises his hand, shaking his head and looking sheepish. She looks at him in exasperation.

Yoo cuts in. “No problem. I’ll direct you today until you catch on. Just do what I tell you to and you’ll be fine. The important thing is to relax and have fun with it. Okay?”

We all nod. I feel pressured to do well today. As the Visual of our group, image is my responsibility. It’s important that I shine.

The techs finish arranging the set, and we get a thumbs-up to start. Mr. Yoo peers through his camera while his assistant reads numbers to him from a meter. We stand stiffly on the set, afraid to touch anything.

Soon, Yoo is ready for us. “Okay, everybody pile on to that couch.”

The shoot starts off well. We’re grouped together on the floral couch while Yoo calls out instructions to us. They’re easy to follow at first.

“Look casual! You’re hanging out with your buddies.”

“Look happy! You’re having a great day.”

“Look serious. You’re serious men thinking serious thoughts.”

After a half hour, Yoo is satisfied. We troop off the set and prepare for our individual sessions.

Changmin’s up first.

“Be cute. That’s it. Sweet and cute. Oh, all the  _ahjumma_ s love you because you’re such a sweet boy. Put your hand on your heart and swear that you’ll stay sweet forever…”

 _That’s weird_. Changmin obviously thinks so, too, but he does what Yoo says, crossing one arm onto his chest and gritting out a cautious smile.

“Ahh, perfect!” The camera lets out a quick series of clicks, showing Yoo’s approval.

Raena is standing next to me. I guess I send her a funny look because she says, “I know. Yoo’s a bit…unorthodox, but he’s one of the best photographers in Seoul. He’ll get good shots of all of you. Just do as he says, and you’ll be fine.”

I nod.  _Okay._

One by one, we all take our turns in front of the camera. Yoochun’s shoot is easy, even if his instructions are a bit obscure.

“You’re the one who knows nothing, right? Show me! Shrug! Think ‘clueless.’”

Junsu gets off easy, too.

 “Look intrigued by what I’m saying. You want to hear more. You want to ask questions.”

But then it’s Yunho’s turn.

At first, Yoo’s instructions are merely uncomfortable.

“Lift your arm behind your head. Who’s a hot boy? You are. And you know it. Show me how hot you are.”

But as Yoo gets more into the shoot, his instructions get weirder. He makes Yunho point at the camera, stretch his arms overhead and arch his back, or grab his chin and look “distracted.”

To give him credit, Yunho stays calm through the whole process. He obediently follows even the strangest directions.

“You have a bird trapped between your hands. Keep it there. Don’t let it go, but don’t crush it. No, don’t look at it! If you look at the bird, it’ll die. Look at me and hold the bird. Show me the bird.”

 _Show me the bird?_   _What?_  I make eye contact with the other members. They all look as bewildered as I feel. For a moment, we all just stare at one another, then suddenly we’re bent over, stifling laughter, holding our sides with glee at Yunho’s predicament. I feel bad for laughing, but I can’t help it. This is not how I imagined a professional photographer would act.

Our brave leader does several more strange poses for Yoo, then it’s my turn.

As I pass Yunho on my way to the set, he whispers grimly, “Good luck.”

My stomach does a little flip.  _He spoke to me_. I walk on to the set with a happy smile.

Yoo goes easy on me, for the most part. He calls me ‘pretty boy’ a few times and keeps telling me to tilt my head, but it’s nowhere near as bad as Yunho’s ordeal. I’m relieved.

After my shoot, we’re sent back to the dressing room while they prepare for the smaller group shots. We all tease Yunho about his shoot.

“I hear you have a bird,  _hyung_. Can you show it to me?” Changmin is mock-earnest.

“Where’s your bird? No, don’t look at it! Are you trying to kill it?” Junsu acts horrified.

Yunho shakes his head at us, but takes the ribbing good-naturedly. “Just wait,” he says. “He’ll give you guys weird stuff to do, too. I guarantee it.”

We’re just starting a card game when they call the first group. It’s Yoochun, Yunho, and I. We approach the set with trepidation, not sure what’s expected of us.

Yoo takes command. “Okay, let’s get you three on the couch. Pretty Boy, you sit in the middle.”

We sit down. Yoochun and Yunho lean in a bit on either side of me. Yoo snaps a few pictures. “Okay, now without the smiles. Look natural, like you were talking and I walked in on you.”

We stop smiling and look at the camera with “what do you want?” looks.  _Click_ goes the camera.

Yoo likes it. “Oh, good. This is very good. Yunho, lean in closer to the middle.”

Yunho leans in so close that I can feel the warmth of his body.  _Click click._

“Closer. Get your head right next to his shoulder.”

Yunho leans in. His head is right next to mine. My heartrate picks up with him so close. I try to keep my breathing even, but every breath pulls in the scent of him. There’s a sweet, chemical smell from all the beauty products he’s got on, but I can still detect the warm amber scent of Yunho’s skin underneath it all. My heart beats faster as memories of touching that skin flood me.

_Click click click._

“Yunho, put your arm behind him and lean in so your shoulders are touching.”

Yunho’s touching me, his arm a warm band across my back. I feel a slow flush spread up my face and my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I know he must feel it, too. Every centimeter of my body is alive to the feel of Yunho next to me. Every slight movement of his body sends shivers through me.

I haven’t been close to him since our fight, when he acted like my touch was a stain. Does he hate touching me now? Is he enduring it, waiting for the moment he can pull away and wipe himself clean of me?  _I have to know_.

I break my pose and face him.

He turns to me and there it is: the connection, the smoldering warmth in his eyes that I’ve been aching to see. I can’t tear my eyes away. I’m lost in the emotion I see in his gaze. For long moments we simply smile at each other, eyes locked in desperate communication. I haven’t mistaken his recent overtures. Something has changed for him. I see affection, admiration, passion—and apology. Every word unspoken for weeks passes between us. They don’t need to be spoken aloud. I know how he feels.  _I’m forgiven_. Tears of relief sting my eyes.

Dimly, I’m aware of the camera clicking away like crazy. I hear Yoo order Yoochun out of the shot. Then Yoo’s yelling at us again.

“Oh my god, this is incredible! So great. Perfect. Put your arm around his waist. That’s it.”  _Click click click click._

I blush when Yunho’s arm encircles me. Color rises in Yunho’s face, too. I’m suddenly aware of my surroundings again. I look away from Yunho and realize that the shoot is dead silent. The faces ringing the set share the same expression of eyebrows-raised fascination. Dread fills me.  _What have I done?_   _What did they see?_

The clicking stops.

Yoo’s head pops up from behind the camera. He studies us with a serious expression for a few moments, gaze curious. Then he nods and turns to Raena. “I got everything I need from these two.”

The atmosphere in the studio is uncomfortable as we leave the set. Everyone is looking at us funny. We awkwardly make our way back to our members.

Yoochun is already in the dressing room, watching the others play a phone game. He glances up when we walk in, his expression uneasy.

I don’t dare look at Yunho.

In silence, we watch Junsu and Changmin compete at their game for a while before Raena comes in to get them for their shoot.

She approaches me and Yunho, her face lit up with delight. “What a fantastic shoot. Such chemistry! I never would’ve guessed you had it in you. You boys have a natural instinct for fanservice. Good.”

Her expression turns calculating. “We can definitely use this for marketing. Sex sells, after all! Especially to idol fans. I predict that the two of you will be  _very_  popular.”

She turns and snaps her fingers at Jaejin, motioning him over to take notes. “Write up a marketing proposal for Lee Sooman that features these two as a couple. I want this idea in front of him ASAP.”

 _Wait. A couple?_ I picture  _Seonsangnim_ ’s face when a proposal to make me and Yunho a couple lands on his desk. My stomach clenches tight. He won’t be happy. Not happy at all.

 

 


	14. Dream Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DBSK has its first show. The group has a dorm party to celebrate, but Yunho goes to bed early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we’re getting so close to the end. Looking at what I have left to wrap up in this section, I decided to add one more chapter. I want to make sure I have plenty of room for Yunjae happenings. ^^

—*—

 

My hands are shaking as I look in the mirror again. I keep checking my look to make sure everything is perfect because there’s nothing else I can do. It’s too late to practice anymore. We’ve run out of time.

“Are you nervous?” asks the cameraman. There’s a film crew following us around tonight, documenting our first public appearance as a group. Our pre-debut debut, as Raena calls it.

“Yes.” I say, because there’s no chance I can hide it.

“Are you worried that you won’t perform well?”

Before I can answer, a hand falls on my shoulder, and a voice next to me says, “Not at all. It’s an important opportunity, so we’ll work hard for those who are seeing us for the first time.”

 _Yunho always knows what to say_. I feel a glow of pride at how calm and confident he seems. Even more so because I can feel his fingers trembling against me.  _He’s nervous, too_.

Junsu pipes up nearby. “There’s nothing special about us, but we’ll work hard.”

We all nod. The interviewer asks a few more questions, then moves on to find Changmin and Yoochun. Yunho’s hand falls from my shoulder as he turns to face me.

“You okay?” he asks in a low voice, concerned.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

His face lights up with laughter. “You’re not going to throw up. You’ll be fine. We’ve performed this routine a million times. Tonight’s just another practice, right?”

“In front of hundreds of strangers. What if they don’t like us?”

“How can they not like us? We’re Dongbangshinki!” He grins as he says it, rolling his eyes. We’re still not used to our group name yet. It seems arrogant to put ourselves forward as  _gods_. It’s a lot to live up to.

“Gods of the East? I thought you were whales.” Eunhyuk picks his way through the clutter of the dressing room.

“No, they’re organs and entrails, remember?” jokes Heechul, coming up behind him.

“Oh, right. That was the best name, I think. “The Bloody Guts.” Pity  _Seonsangnim_  changed his mind,” Eunhyuk laughs at our dark looks.

“ _Yah_! Did you come here just to give us a hard time?” Junsu is indignant.

“Mm…pretty much.” Heechul nods.

“Why else would we come?” agrees Eunhyuk.

“Have you seen the audience? How are the other groups doing?” Yunho asks.

Heechul nods. “It’s a good-size crowd. And they’re actually watching the show, not just draining the open bar. I guess they want their money’s worth for their donations.”

We’re performing at a charity event tonight. Several established groups are also here, but Raena says not to worry about them. She says they’re not our competition, just a nice publicity boost for us. Between the write-ups for the show and the camera crew, there will be a lot of eyes on tonight’s performance.

_No pressure._

As if on cue, Raena comes bustling up. Her sharp eyes inspect us from head to foot. “Jae, get someone to touch up your makeup. Your lips are smudged. Junsu, your hair… I don’t even know where to start. Get it fixed. Yunho, your collar is crooked. Where are the others?” Junsu points across the crowded room to Yoochun and Changmin sitting on a bench.

Raena nods. “I’ll go check on them in a minute. How are you doing, boys? Are you ready? Feeling charged up?”

She’s strung even tighter than usual, a blur of motion. She reminds me of a hummingbird, darting here and there.  _She’s nervous too._ For some reason, realizing that makes me worry even more.

“Yes!” says Yunho, smiling at her with confidence.

“Yes!” says Junsu. He might actually be telling the truth. Of everyone here, he seems the most like his usual self.

“Yes,” I say, but I’m less sure.

Raena looks at me kindly. “Nerves? Don’t let them get to you. Just do everything exactly the way we rehearsed, and the crowd will love you. Okay?”

I nod.

“Good. Now, take care of those issues while I go get the others.”

She rushes off. Junsu and I make our way over to the styling area.

While we’re being touched up, Heechul comes over to chat. We’ve been so busy with rehearsals these past few weeks that we haven’t seen any of the other trainees for more than a few minutes. He fills us in on all the gossip: which project groups are working and which aren’t, which members got moved into other groups, who’s dating whom, and who left SM—willingly or not.

“I can’t believe so much has happened,” I say. “I’m out of touch. How’s your group doing?”

“Not bad. No one is dead weight, anyway. Even Eunhyuk is coming along. It’s no Four Seasons, but we’ve got potential.”

“And you’re getting along with  _all_  your members?” I meet his eyes in the mirror. I can’t come right out and ask what’s going on with him and Kangin, but I want to know. Heechul wasn’t happy to learn that he’d be stuck seeing his ex every day in the new project group.

“It hasn’t been easy, but yes. We all get along. Actually…” he arches an eyebrow at me meaningfully. “I’ve become close friends with that Chinese trainee. You’ll have to hang out with us sometime.”

“I want to come, too,” interrupts Junsu. “Why don’t you ever invite me?”

“You’re  _always_  invited, kitten. What else would we do for entertainment?”

“ _Yah_!”

Before the two can start bickering, Pak and Raena walk up with the other members. The camera crew is right behind them. Heechul waves goodbye, mouths “good luck,” and heads over to where Eunhyuk stands by the door. I slide out of the salon chair and join my group. Yunho smiles at me in reassurance as I stand next to him. Pak motions for us to line up against the wall.

Raena walks our lineup, scrutinizing us for long minutes, her eyes noting every detail. It feels like we’re in the army, undergoing inspection. She nods, apparently satisfied. “Perfect. Stay exactly like this until you go on stage. Pak,” she turns to our manager, “They need to be standing in the wings at 6:40 sharp. Not a second later. Okay?”

Pak nods. Raena turns back to us. “I have to go out front and handle the press. I’ll see you after the performance. Break a leg!” With an airy wave, she flits off.

“6:40? How much longer is that?” asks Yoochun. His face is pale, visibly stressed. Changmin next to him is all wide, scared eyes.

“It’s 6:30 now,” answers Pak.

 _Ten minutes?_  I feel another wave of nausea go through me. I close my eyes and swallow hard, fighting it down.  _I can’t be sick_. In the midst of my struggle to not vomit all over my costume, I feel a warm hand settle between my shoulder blades. It rubs in slow, gentle circles, soothing me.  _Yunho_.

Pak is running through last-minute instructions for the show. Which stage entrance to use, where to pick up our mikes, how to address the show hosts. I try to concentrate on what he’s saying, pushing down the queasiness. The gentle, relaxing motion of Yunho’s hand really helps. I look up at him in gratitude and get gorgeous eye-smiles in return.

“Okay, I need to check with the stage manager, but I’ll be back in…six minutes.” Pak zips off.

The five of us are left alone, looking at each other.

“Well, this is it,” says Yoochun.

“Yeah.” We all look at each other, nerves getting the best of us. No one knows what to say.

Then Junsu speaks. “What do you call a snake that talks too much?”

“I don’t know. What?”

“A prattlesnake.” We all groan.

“That’s not funny.” Changmin shakes his head.

“Okay,” Junsu says, “How about this one? How do you make an octopus laugh?”

“Oh god. I’m going to be sorry I asked, but…how?”

“With ten-tickles!”

“Ahhhh!” Changmin groans, shoving Junsu until he staggers a few feet away. Undeterred, he keeps telling jokes.

“What do you call a big pile of kittens?”

“No, don’t say it!”

“A meow-ntain!”

“Agh!”

They’re terrible jokes, but they work. We laugh as Changmin chases Junsu in circles, trying to keep him from delivering more punchlines.

Suddenly, Pak is there. “Get ready.”

Yunho nods at him. Raising his voice to get our attention, he says, “Okay, gather around!”

We huddle together while the camera films our every move. Yunho extends his hand into the center in the circle, and the rest of us stack ours on top.

 “We’ve worked hard for this dream, but now we’re here. We made it. Tonight’s our chance to show the world who we are. Let’s do our best and make SM proud. Okay?”

We nod.

“Okay! On the count of three, let’s do our cheer. One… Two… Three…”

All together, we say, “Dongbangshinki  _hwaiting_!”

Yunho shakes his head. “That was awkward. Let’s do it again. And  _mean_  it, this time.”

Louder this time, we yell, “Dongbangshinki  _hwaiting_!” We bump our hands together in the center of the circle.

Then we’re following Pak out of the crowded dressing room and into the dark backstage area. We can see a duo onstage performing, a sweet, acoustic ballad. They’re not bad.  _Our song is better._

A stagehand waves us over. He hands us microphones, each with a band of colored tape on it. Mine’s yellow. He whispers at us. “The mikes stay dead until you’re on stage. This,” he points to a small dot on the side, “will light up when it’s live. Got it?”

We nod. My hand on the mike is sweaty. Yoochun gives me an anxious smile. I try to smile back, but my face feels frozen. I can’t tear my eyes away from the stage.  _We’re next_. Panic flutters inside me, and I draw a shaky breath. Once again, Yunho’s warm touch on my back comforts me. He has an instinct for when I need help.

The duo onstage finishes up and bows. Applause thunders for them as they exit the stage, and my heart skips a beat.  _So many people_. They brush past us in the wings, nodding politely, as the MCs take to the stage. They praise the act that just left and talk about the charity. Then I hear our name.

“…they’re SM Entertainment’s newest male vocal group. Although they haven’t officially debuted, tonight you get a sneak-peek at them in their very first public performance. Please give a warm welcome to…Dong-Bang-Shin-Kiiiiii!”

_We’re on._

 

—)(—

 

I can hear the party all the way down the hall. It sounds like the entire dorm is crammed in our suite. When the door opens, I see that I was right. The apartment is wall-to-wall SM trainees.

A group of trainees I’ve never seen before stands right inside the door. They look at me with suspicion when I walk in, and I’m mildly offended.  _I live here!_

In the living room, Kangin has the karaoke machine blasting. He waves when I walk in, then rolls his eyes and points in the direction of the singing trainee.  I’m confused by his disdain until I realize what song is playing.  _Arirang, really?_  I shake my head, grateful I’ve outgrown that pretentious phase.

“Congratulations on the show!” Kangin yells over the noise. “I hear you guys kicked ass!”

I nod my thanks. “ _Seonsangnim_  was happy. That’s what matters.”

He grins. "If you say so."

I look around. “Have you seen my members?”

Kangin jerks a thumb toward the back of the apartment. “Kitchen, I think.”

I thank him and push my way through the crowd toward the kitchen, stopping every few feet to talk to well-wishers. I’m touched by how happy for us everyone is. It’s not even their success, but they’re drunk with joy. I sniff the stale,  _soju_ -scented air.  _Okay, maybe they’re drunk on more than just joy._

I make it to the kitchen and, sure enough, there’s Junsu and Changmin. Junsu is unsteady on his feet, drunk already. For once, I don’t begrudge him his obliviated state. He hasn’t had a drop of liquor in weeks, and tonight he’s earned the right to some fun. One look at our  _maknae_ ’s sour expression, though, and I know who got stuck babysitting our angel.

“ _Hyung_!” he calls out when I walk in, his face lighting up with relief. “Where have you been?”

“I was at the studio with Raena and her PR team. She had a lot of details she wanted to go over.” I stifle a yawn.

“That woman scares me,” Junsu pipes up. His chubby cheeks are flushed, his eyes glazed.  _Wasted._  “She told me I need to work harder at being charismatic. Me!” He’s indignant, puffed up.  _Funny._

“Well, she told me that I was ‘less  _kawaii_  and more  _kowaii_.’ I didn’t even know what that meant. I had to look it up.”

I nod in sober agreement at his complaint, but secretly I agree with Raena. I don’t know why she decided to give Changmin the “cute” persona in our group, but it’s a terrible mismatch. Our weird, ill-fitting personas are the only mistake I’ve known her to make, though. Otherwise, I have to admit that she knows her stuff.

“ _Yah_ , Changminnie, let’s swap personas and not tell Raena.”

“We can’t do that.”

“Why not? Are you saying you can’t be charismatic like me?” 

“You’re not very charismatic,  _hyung_.”

“Well, you’re not  _kawaii_  at all. I should be the cute one.” Junsu pouts, his cherub’s face unhappy. Then he suddenly belches, long and loud.

“Oh yeah, you’re real cute,” sighs Changmin.

“Have you seen the others?” I ask him.

“Maybe check the bedrooms? I don’t know.” He goes back to watching Junsu with the aggrieved look of a burdened  _dongsaeng_.

I nod my thanks as I leave him, squeezing past the crowd in the hall.  _So tired_. I want to check in with everyone and then collapse face-down on my bed.

Jae’s bedroom door is shut. I knock, but no one answers. I knock again.

The door swings open. “I said ‘come in,’” says Yoochun, cranky. He steps back to let me enter.

“I couldn’t hear you.”

I follow him into the bedroom. Jae and Heechul sit on the bed, looking at something on Junsu’s laptop. They look up when I walk in.

“Yunho! Come see! It’s amazing!” Jae is almost incandescent with joy, his eyes shining with excitement.

“What is it?” I walk over, already half-smiling. His happiness is contagious.

He turns the laptop to face me, and I find myself staring at a long series of text posts.  _Some kind of forum?_

“It’s a fan café.  _Our_  fan café. Dongbangshinki’s.”

I nod. “Raena told me. She says there are already a dozen of them now. Apparently, someone uploaded video of our show and it took off.”

“I saw the video. It’s not bad. Except for my microphone cutting out.” Yoochun sounds glum. His mike hadn’t turned on when it was supposed to, and he had to project for a few lines until they fixed it.   _A rough start_.

“You handled it well. Like a professional,” I assure him. “That’s what the PR team said.”

“Really?” he perks up, smiling.

“At least your fans know you’re not lip-synching, right?” teases Heechul.

 “Seriously, the PR team said they couldn’t ask for a better response than what we got tonight. They’re optimistic about our debut.” I nod firmly in emphasis.

“Yeah, people are already asking about it on the forum. Listen! ‘IDK about the name, but sign me up for front row seats at any concert with these hotties.’”

“’Hotties?’” PR didn’t say anything about  _that_.

“Oh, you were called all kinds of names: hotties, cuties, pretty boys, flower boys. I’m shocked, really. I don’t see it, myself. Are you sure Raena didn’t pay people to write that stuff?” Heechul pretends to be suspicious.

I feel a warm glow of happiness spread through me as it sinks in. Hearing the PR team’s clinical assessment of our success, the statistics and the feedback, didn’t feel anywhere near as good as knowing that real people—fans!—were on a forum talking about us.

I catch Jae’s eye and we smile at each other, sharing the moment.  _We did it_.

I shake my head, overwhelmed. I’m too tired to process all the feelings I have right now. I need to get some rest and celebrate in the morning.

I say good night to everyone and shuffle down the hall to my room. I’m grateful once again that I have a single.  _No one will bother me_.

Entering my room, I shut the door and drop my messenger bag. Toeing off my sneakers, I collapse backward onto the bed, giving a groan of pleasure at how good it feels to lie down. I lie there unmoving, eyes closed. I could fall asleep right now, just like this…

There’s a knock on the door.

“Who?” I call out, hearing the slur of exhaustion in my own voice.

“Yunho, can I come in?”  _Jae_.

“Sure.”

I don’t open my eyes, but I hear his soft footsteps approach. Then the mattress dips to one side as he sits on the edge of my bed.

“You’re in bed already? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

His cool hand rests against my forehead as he checks my temperature. I feel a glow inside at the sweetness of how he takes care of me.

“No fever. Do you feel sick?”

“I’m just tired, Jae.”

“Okay,” I can tell he wants to push me for answers, but kindness won’t let him. “Well, can I do anything for you?”

I open my eyes. He hovers over me, his beautiful face etched with worry. I haven’t had a moment alone with him for weeks.  _I miss him_. It’s not the same when we’re hanging out with other people. I have to be on my guard. I have to watch what I say and be careful not to stare at Jae—when I want to look at him  _all the time_. But when it’s just the two of us, I can relax. I feel more… _me_  around Jae than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s comfortable.  _Comforting._

“Yes. Lie down with me for a minute.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Yunho.”

“I’m not going to do anything. Trust me, I’m too tired. I just want to talk.”

His expression is uncertain. I can tell he’s torn between wariness and wanting to help me.

“Jae, for god’s sake, I won’t bite you. Just lie down. Please.” I tug on his arm lightly, pulling him toward me.

He gives in.

Hesitantly, he turns and lowers himself onto the bed, stretching out his legs. I scoot over to make room for him. I turn onto my side to face him, and he does the same. There’s a wide space between our bodies, but the tension in me eases with him so near.

The dim light of my room hazes his features, making him look soft and fragile. His huge, dark eyes are a faint gleam in the low light. I can’t look away, drinking in his beauty.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing special. Just talk. How are things going with you?”

He gives me a long, considering look before answering. “They’re good. I’m glad tonight is over. I think we did well.”

“We did great. Raena’s over the moon. Says the fan cafes are a ‘primary success indicator’ or something like that. She was going through them post by post and taking notes. The whole PR team was excited. ” I’m about to tell him what  _Ssem_  said about us, that it was one of the strongest pre-debuts he’s seen, but I stop myself. My continuing relationship with  _Seonsangnim_  is a sore subject.

Jae smiles. “I can imagine.”

We’ve barely had a moment to talk since that strange photoshoot. There’s so much I want to say to him, but I’m tired. I keep talking only because I don’t want him to leave. I want to lie here and look at his beautiful face all night. It makes me feel at peace.

He tells me what I missed of the party, then adds, “Pak dropped a packet off for you earlier tonight. It’s on your desk. We tried to get him to stay and celebrate with us, but he had to get right back to the office.”

I nod, fighting off a yawn.

“I should let you sleep.” He starts to get up.

“Noooo, don’t go.” I hook an arm around him and draw him close. He tenses as I pull us flush, his cheek on my shoulder, my chin resting on top of his head. Our bodies touch all along their lengths. I can feel every curve, every toned muscle, of Jae’s slender frame where it presses against mine. Any other day, any other time, I’d be desperate with desire to find myself here, embracing him, but I was telling the truth before: I’m too exhausted to do more than nuzzle into his soft hair, inhaling its sweet scent. I close my eyes again, trying to breathe him in without being obvious.

“Yunho… What are you doing?”

I smile.  _Busted_. “I like the smell of your shampoo.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

We lie there in silence for a while. I’m floating in a sea of warm contentment. I never want to leave this moment. Gradually, Jae’s body relaxes against me. He turns his other cheek against my shoulder, and I feel his breath wash against my neck. I hug him a little closer, running one hand slowly up and down his back, soothing.

I’m achingly aware of Jae’s every movement. His breath hitches, heart beating faster under my hands as I stroke him, his skin growing hot. He exhales in quickening puffs. I feel the soft drag of his full lips as he turns his face into me, nosing into the hollow under my jaw. His fingers drift up to my nape, sifting through the razored ends of hair as he tilts my head closer. I feel the stealthy press of his lips against the skin of my throat.

 _He wants me_.

Tired as I am, my body can’t say no to Jae. A telltale tightness starts low in my belly, a deep surge of desire. I press a kiss into Jae’s hair, the fragrant strands silky against my mouth. I slide an eager hand down his side, along the hard-muscled line of his hip to his thigh, drawing his leg up around my waist as I ease closer. Blood pounds in my head at the feel of him against me, my breath shuddering out in uneven gasps.

My hand smoothes back down the underside of his thigh, feeling out the sweet, taut curve of muscle. My fingers dig in to the pliant flesh, tugging his hips harder against mine until we’re joined, hipbones grazing. I can feel how turned on he is, his cock nudging mine where they’re trapped between our bodies. Neither of us is fully hard yet, but we’re getting there fast.

I’m helpless to prevent my body from seeking friction, rolling my hips down into the cradle of his thighs, stroking his swollen cock against mine, feeling them twitch and grow at the pressure. Jae moans into my throat as his hot mouth sucks a kiss onto the sensitive skin there, tongue darting out to sweep my skin.

Jae’s low noise sets me on fire. The bumping of our swollen flesh, his urgent mouth and lapping tongue—it’s not enough. I need more from Jae, need to  _connect_  with him. I lower my face, pressing soft kisses along his temple, his smooth cheek, his jaw, until my searching mouth finds his. Our lips meet, a hot, wet collision, and we both groan at the pleasure of it.

Our mouths slant together, tongues meeting, entwining, desire making the kiss rough and urgent. I can’t get enough of him. I tangle my hand into the soft hair at his nape and pull him closer, biting softly at his round mouth, sucking his plump upper lip between mine, reveling in his fervent response. I cup his cheek in my palm, angling his face so I can press his lips open and tongue deep. His hands slip underneath my shirt, and I feel his hot palms move across my back, sliding up across my skin. His fingertips dig into the muscle of my shoulders, gripping tight and forcing me closer to his arching body. I almost lose my mind with want.

Panting, I roll us over so I’m on top, pressing him down into the mattress. We strain together, our kisses frantic and needy. Lips melding in desperate yearning. I rut down into him with rough thrusts, pressing our stomachs together, grinding against the firm ridges of his abdomen. Jae gives a throaty gasp, a sound that makes my cock give a hard pulse, then he pulls me closer with the leg he has hooked around my waist.  I feel a surge of pleasure so intense that I have to stop for a moment, breaking our kiss and pulling back.

I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never felt so turned on by simple caresses, a few passionate kisses. I’ve never felt  _joined_  to anyone.  _Only Jae_. Even a simple touch carries meaning with him. Even our kisses feel profound. I look down at his face in wonder.

His dark eyes gaze up at me, pupils blown wide with passion, his lips rubbed red.  _Beautiful._  And the way he looks at me. My heart twists at the emotion in his lovely eyes. The understanding, the trust…

_Dammit._

With a sigh, I lean down and press a shaky kiss against his forehead, closing my eyes as I hold my lips there for a moment, collecting myself. Then I roll off him to the side.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, breathless. His chest is heaving. Mine, too. We’re both so turned on. I gingerly pluck my pants away from my stomach, trying to will my erection back down and calm my body. I have to shake off this haze of yearning. 

“I can’t do this to you.”

“What do you mean?” He’s puzzled.

“I know this isn’t what you want. I know you can’t risk getting caught. I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you regret.”

He’s silent for a moment, looking at the ceiling while he runs his tongue along his lips, testing their rawness. Then he rolls onto his side facing me, tucking an arm beneath his head to raise it slightly. He takes deep, shuddering breaths, trying to steady his breathing. I turn to face him, too.

His expression is serious as he looks at me, a slight frown creasing his forehead, as if he’s not sure what to make of what I just said.

I reach out and clasp his hand where it lies on the mattress between us, holding it firmly in mine. “I’m going to take care of you, Jae. I don’t know what to do about your…situation with  _Ssem_  yet, but I’m going to figure something out.”

His eyes widen, tears shimmering. “You believe me?” he whispers.

“Yes. I trust you.” I squeeze his hand. “And I care about you. This thing between us…it’s strong. Incredibly strong. I want you badly, I can’t deny it. But I don’t need to be with you that way.”

He tilts his head to the side, curious. “You don’t?”

“No. If all we can ever be is friends, then that’s enough. I’ll take you in my life any way I can get you. Friend, member, whatever you want to be. Just stay by my side.”

He nods, eyes bright with emotion. “Okay.”

“Good.”

We smile at each other. Tears trace a glinting path down his cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

He nods. “Happy.”

“Come here.” I tug him closer and drape an arm over his side, cuddling him close. “Don’t worry. I just want to hold you for a while.”

We lie there for long minutes, letting our bodies cool and looking at each other. We can’t stop smiling. I yawn as exhaustion settles over me again. I blink hard a few times, trying to stay awake, but my eyes gradually close. I could stay like this forever. Float through eternity with Jae’s hand in mine. I feel the mattress move slightly and then a soft kiss brushes my lips. I want to say something, but I’m so tired. I sink toward dark oblivion.

The last thing I remember is Jae’s voice whispering, “Sleep. I’ll be right here.”


	15. My Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group gets called some names and attends their first fan event. Jae gets called to the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tough chapter to write. But so satisfying! Only one chapter left after this one. Eeee! It’s so exciting.^^

—*—

 

_Three weeks until debut._

Time passes in a blur of training. We’ve learned how to answer reporters, how to field awkward questions, and what topics to avoid entirely. We’ve learned our best angles for photographs, how to handle wardrobe malfunctions, and tricks for fixing smudged makeup. We can turn down liquor without offending our host and know how to address everyone from street vendors to celebrities. And we can perform our dance routines in our sleep.

So I’m curious about what today’s PR session will teach us.

It must be important, because it isn’t just the usual staff members in the studio today.  _Seonsangnim_  and Raena are here. Raena is firing instructions at Jaejin, while her staff hooks up a computer to a large projector screen.

Yoochun nudges me. “Are we going to watch a movie?” he whispers.

I shrug.  _No idea._  I look over to where Yunho is reviewing paperwork with Pak. Responsibilities as group leader keep him out hours later than the rest of us, yet he’s somehow still the first one up every day.  _His eyes look tired._

I want to curl up beside him and sleep for days, snuggling against him. I sigh.  _All my fantasies are about cuddling with Yunho these days._  I watched Yunho sleep for hours the night we made up, his face sweet and peaceful as he dreamed away beside me. I’d been too happy to sleep. Reality was better than my dreams. Hearing Yunho say he trusted me and wanted me in his life meant…the world. It was  _everything_. All these years, my betrayal weighed on me. I lived every moment terrified he’d find out. Terrified I’d lose him if he did. And now the pressure is lifted.  _Yunho understands. He’s going to help me._  I wanted to lie there forever on that narrow bed in the dark of Yunho’s room, watching him sleep and floating on a sea of bliss.

“You and Yunho seem to be getting along better these days.”

I snap out of my dreamy haze and find Yoochun looking at me. His expression is neutral, but his eyes are sharp.

“We do? Yeah, I guess we are.” I shrug, trying to come across casual. “You know how it is. Every friendship has its ups and downs.”

He nods and starts to say something, then stops. He shakes his head and finally says in a quiet voice. “You’re a good person, Jaejoong. You deserve to be treated well, remember that.”

“Okay. Thank you.” I nod.  _What the heck? Is he…_ warning _me about Yunho?_

Before I can panic about what he knows, or thinks he knows, Raena is clapping her hands for our attention.

“Alright, boys. Important stuff today. First, let me tell Mr. Lee what a spectacular job you’ve been doing so far. The response has been impressive. We released group portraits with short interviews and the reaction was…well, easier to show you. Jaejin, will you hit the lights?”

The lights go out and we look at the large screen. It shows an online fan café. The forum header features a picture of our  _maknae_  next to the words “ _Choikang_  Changmin.”

Yoochun reads aloud the text underneath Changmin’s picture. “The Youngest DBSK Member Awakens Hearts with His  _Aegyo_.” The room bursts into laughter. Junsu cackles and pounds the tabletop as Changmin’s jaw drops. As he reads the posts underneath the title, each more gushing than the one before, his ears turn red with embarrassment.

Raena grins. “I know it seems extreme, but remember: you’re the Gods of the East. Exaggerated language like that is exactly what we want.”

_Seonsangnim_  purses his lips and nods. “I like it. It’s a good match for their concept.” He turns to Raena. “What’s ‘ _choikang_ ’ in English?”

She consults her notes. “It’s ‘Max,” like ‘maximum.’ The best.”

“Good. Let’s go with that for his stage name.”

Changmin looks befuddled at his new name. It happened so fast. The rest of us exchange nervous looks, wondering what our names will be. _We don’t get to choose?_

Raena continues with her presentation. She shows pages from fan cafés for the group and for each member individually. Yoochun and Yunho are the most popular. The fans seem to really like their personas. They’re already calling Yoochun “Micky” in his forum.

I’m almost afraid to see my fan page. How is my silent, “mysterious” persona working? When my forum flashes onscreen, I quickly look down. Then I take a deep breath and peek up to see what they said. It’s post after post of almost the same comment: “ _Omo_! How pretty!” and “Ooh, pretty boy!” and “Waaah, he’s prettier than most girl idols.”

_I hate it. Pretty. Always pretty. Why am I never “handsome” or “cool”?_

There’s an uncomfortable silence as everyone reads down my page. With no personality to judge me by, the fans are focusing solely on the way I look. Some of the comments are explicit, and I feel a blush rise in my face. I’ve seen plenty of sexually forward comments about famous idols before. And there have been risqué comments on everyone’s forums. But it’s a different experience when girls are talking graphically about what they want to do to  _me_.

Yoochun nudges me with a greasy smile. “Lucky. Plenty of fish in the sea for you.” Yunho shoots us a dark look from where he sits by Junsu. He’s not smiling.

“We’re getting a strong response to you as the group visual,” Raena says, “But you’re not connecting with fans the way the others are, so we need to work on that.”

I bow my head in agreement, but inside I’m frustrated.  _How am I supposed to connect with fans when I’m not allowed to talk?_

A few more pictures flash by on screen, mostly involving statistics about projected sales and pre-orders. I try to follow them, but they don’t make a lot of sense to me.  _Seonsangnim_  seems pleased, though.

Raena finishes up. “That puts us right on target for your first fanmeeting next weekend. We’ll print up small photo booklets that fans can buy for you to sign. We need you to choose your names today so we can include those in the books. Okay?”

We all nod.

_Seonsangnim_  steps forward. “Remember, DBSK won’t be successful in Korea only. We’re going to dominate Japan, China, all of Asia. Your name must match the group concept, but also be larger than life. Global. Monumental. Understand? You will be legends. So a name from the old myths would be a good choice. ”

We must look confused, because Raena jumps in to explain. “I think Mr. Lee is referring to some of the ideas we tossed around earlier. For example, Jaejoong looks like he stepped out of a classic  _Joseon_  adventure. He has the clean, pure features of a hero. So we were thinking “Y _oungwoong_ ” would be a great name for him.”

“Oh, he’s a perfect hero.”  _Seonsangnim_ ’s words have the faint sneering undertone I’ve come to expect from him. It still stings, though, even after all this time. I turn away and catch Yunho staring hard at the CEO, his lips a tight line. But he says nothing.

“How do you feel about it, Jaejoong?” Raena looks hopeful.

_Hero? Me?_  It’s silly and arrogant, and I’ll be embarrassed if people call me that. But I don’t say that. “It’s good. Hero sounds good.”

“Great!” Raena beams her approval. “That should give the rest of you an idea of what your names should be. Think it over for a few minutes.”

Yoochun turns to me. “Hero? I don’t know if that’s better or worse than mine. At least I have an excuse.”

“Excuse?”

“Yeah. I was nine when I chose my name.” He grins.

I elbow him and smile back. I look at the others. Only Junsu and Yunho need stage names now. They’re both thinking hard, scribbling on notepads, tapping their pens against the paper. Changmin looks unhappy.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“ _Choikang_ ,” he responds sourly. “I hate it.”

“Hey, you’re talking to  _Youngwoong_ ,” jokes Yoochun. “He can’t judge you.”

Changmin gives a wan smile. “We’ll suffer together,  _hyung_.”

“ _Choikang_  Changmin  _hwaiting_!”

“ _Youngwoong_  Jaejoong  _hwaiting_!”

Loud voices interrupt us.  _Seonsangnim_  is speaking to Raena in a raised voice. His face is red with rage and he jabs his finger in the air at her to punctuate his words.

“I told you before. It’s out of the question. I disapprove of the entire campaign.”

“But, Mr. Lee, please reconsider. Our focus testing indicates that this ‘couple romance’ will be enormously popular. You know how idol fans are. They’ll make couples whether we want them to or not, so we should control the presentation and profit from it. Here,” she shuffles through some papers and holds one out to him. “Look at these financial projections—“

He angrily pushes the paper away. “No. That’s final. You overstep your bounds. One more word on the subject and you’re on the street. Clear?”

He’s almost purple with rage, eyes cold dots behind the gold-framed glasses. The room’s gone so quiet that you can hear his angry breathing. All eyes are glued on the argument.

Raena clutches the papers to her thin chest and bows low. “I humbly beg your pardon, Mr. Lee. Please forgive me.”

_Seonsangnim_ gives a short nod, then turns and leaves without a word, visibly fuming. Only after he’s gone does Raena straighten up again. Her face is a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. I’ve never seen our scary PR director at such a loss before.  _I feel sorry for her_.

Jaejin sidles over and timidly offers to take the papers from her. She gives him the packet with a grateful smile. When she turns to face us, we all quickly avert our eyes. Nobody knows what to say.

She takes a deep breath, then plasters a smile on her face. Her clap for attention is as brisk as usual. “Alright, let’s hear what you’ve come up with. We have Micky, Max, Hero, and…what about you, Junsu?”

He looks down at his scribbled notes and pouts. “I was trying to think of what  _Seonsangnim_  said about being big and global, so I thought…’Xiah.’”

Blank looks from everyone.

He explains. “It’s short for Asia. Because I don’t want to be known just in Korea, but to be famous across all Asia.”

Raena nods with thoughtful approval. “I like it. It’s exotic, symbolic, global. Good job! Xiah it is.”

Junsu beams.  _At least he likes his name_.

“What about you, Yunho?”

“I decided I want to be U-Know.”

“Yunho?”

“U-Know.”

“What am I missing?” She’s looking at him in confusion. We all are.  _Does he want to use his real name?_ I don’t think  _Seonsangnim_  will let even Yunho get away with that.

“It’s not Yunho. It’s U-K-N-O-W. Like, I know that you know that I know you, so you know that I know that we know each other.”

The look on Raena’s face is priceless. “Come again?”

“It means that I want you to know that I understand. As leader, I want everyone to know I understand them.”

“You know that you’re going to have this stage name for your entire career, right? Ten years from now, people will still call you by this name.”

He nods. “I know.”

“You know. U-Know Yunho. Well, you won’t have trouble answering to a new name, anyway.” She shakes her head and raises an eyebrow. “I can’t decide if it’s brilliant or…not so brilliant. I’ll run it by Mr. Lee and see what he thinks.”

She makes some more notes, then tucks her clipboard under her arm.

“Excellent. We’ll add these stage names to the booklets and have them ready for the fan signing next weekend. SM has a strict code of conduct for these events because they can become…chaotic. But we’ll make sure you’re prepared. Jaejin will teach you what to do. Are you boys excited to meet your fans?”

We all nod.  _Yes!_

She gives a sudden grin. “I hope so. Because they’re foaming at the mouth to meet you.”

 

—)(—

 

The screaming doesn’t stop. From the moment we arrive at the signing venue, the fangirls in line start yelling at the top of their lungs. “ _Oppa_! I love you,  _oppa_!” The noise is deafening. Cameras click centimeters from my face, the flash bursts blinding me. Security guards escort us down a cordoned-off path to the building. They protect us from the crush of the crowd, but hands reach across the ropes and pull at us. One girl grabs my shirt so hard that I’m jerked backward. The guard pries her hand off, but my shirt’s hem is torn.  _The wardrobe_ noona _s are going to kill me._

The crowd is a blur. It’s hard to see the faces half-hidden behind “I ♥DBSK” signs, but I can see their eyes. Some girls are crying. Some seem angry. Emotions are riding high in the crowd, washing over me. I feel anxious, unsettled, a little scared. This isn’t at all how I pictured our fans.

The guard throws open a steel door, and I stagger inside. It’s mercifully empty and quiet in here. I take a deep breath and try to quiet my pounding heart.

“Stay right here and don’t move.” The security guard slams the door behind him as he leaves to escort the next member.

The room is a huge, unremarkable reception area in the Myeongdong Central Shopping Mall. The walls and floor are plain white, the ceiling is acoustic tile. Huge banners are hung around the room, each one featuring the face of one of my members. I’ve seen the pictures hundreds of times, but they look different blown up over four meters tall. Velvet ropes zigzag across the room to define a queue area, and long tables by the walls display merchandise for sale. At the far end of the room, there’s a row of five tables, each with a member’s banner hung behind it.

_Bang!_  The door behind me flies open and Junsu stumbles in on a wave of screams. His eyes are wide with terror. The guard slams the door behind him as he leaves for the next member.

“ _Yaaahh…_ That was crazy!” Junsu seems stunned.

“I know! Look! They tore my shirt.” I show him the damaged material.

“They look so shy and sweet hiding behind those signs, but their hands are like crab claws!” He’s shaken up.

_Bang!_  The door opens, and the guard shoves Jaejoong in before leaving again.

Jae’s clutching his arm in pain.  _What happened?_ I rush to his side.

His face is pale under the BB cream, his lovely eyes wide and panicked. I put my hand on his arm where he’s gripping it. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He nods. “Some girl dug her nails into my arm and wouldn’t let go.”

He moves his hand and shows me a row of red crescent-marks cut into his arm. They look painful, but the skin isn’t broken. He’s shaking from the shock of it, though. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, to comfort him after his scare. But I can’t. Instead, I rub the sore spots gently with my fingertips, trying to soothe the pain away.

_Bang!_  In stumble Changmin and Yoochun, white-faced and holding hands. They’re followed by a crowd of people, our team of stylists and PR reps.

Raena enters last, looking more disheveled than I’ve ever seen her. She takes a moment to straighten her clothes and pat her hair into place, then she’s issuing orders. Within minutes, the merchandise booths are staffed, guards are standing by the queues, and Jaejin is setting up the member tables with water bottles and pens.

Raena motions us over. “Is everyone okay? Quite an experience, isn’t it?”

We nod, but everyone’s still too shaken to say much. Raena seems to understand.

“I know it’s hard to believe now, but you’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to tune out the screams and focus on the friendly faces. And don’t forget, you’re building a relationship with these girls. Your fans  _are_ your success. There’s no  _you_  without them. If you’re lucky, if you work hard and honor them, the faces you see today will still be shouting your names and supporting you ten years from now.”

We’re silent, thinking soberly about what she said. It’s hard to imagine where we’ll be a year from now, let alone ten years from now.  _Will we last that long? Will we still be performing?_

Raena’s voice turns brisk. “Okay, we don’t have much time before they open the doors, so let’s do a quick review. Be polite and friendly, but not flirtatious. These are your sisters, not your girlfriends. You can shake hands or pat heads, but absolutely no body contact. None. Clear?”

We nod.

“Sign only the approved merchandise and use only the signatures we practiced. Keep your line moving. Don’t get drawn into long conversations. If you need something or have to go to the bathroom, signal me or Jaejin.  _Never_  leave your designated table without letting us know.”

She gives us a stern look to underscore the importance of what she said.

“Now, the interview you did with the morning show aired today, and the promotions for the signing event have been running all week. The numbers look fantastic. Our data predicts a big turnout.”

For the first time today, she smiles and her eyes twinkle. “You boys are popular. I know this feels overwhelming, but it’ll be easy once you start. Just relax, have fun, and get to know your admirers. Remember that the people in your queue chose you. Out of every group in Korea, out of every member in the group, they picked  _you_. Be a worthy choice.”

_Humbling_. Again and again, we’re reminded that we owe our fans everything.

Raena claps. “Okay, go to your tables. Once you’re settled, we’ll open the doors.”

We pace down the long room toward the tables. Everyone’s nervous. It’s just like the night of our charity performance.

“No one’s going to throw up, are they?” I ask, slanting a look at Jae. “Because if you don’t throw up now, you’ll have to ask Raena for permission later.”

Jae bumps me with his shoulder as we walk, smiling, and I know he got my reference. I wrap an arm around his shoulder and hold him to my side for a moment as we walk. A quick, reassuring hug. He ducks his head shyly, but the smile stays on his face.

“Why does she keep reminding us not to touch the fans?” Yoochun asks.

“Maybe she saw Changmin’s perverted browser history,” Junsu jokes.

Changmin punches his arm. “Didn’t she see what happened out there? I hope someone tells the fans they can’t touch  _us_.” He sounds peeved.

“Well, there are tables separating us now,” I reassure them. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

We reach the end of the hall. I call for a huddle, and we all put our hands into the center of the circle. “ _Dongbangshinki hwaiting_!” With a last word of encouragement, I head off to my table. I’m not at the end of the lineup like I usually am. Jaejin points to me a table in the center, and I take a seat.

The hall is quiet, but I can hear the screams coming from the waiting room next door. I run my palms down my thighs, drying the sweat off on my pants. I arrange the pens in front of me into a straight line. I breathe deeply, trying to stay calm, but my heart is hammering away. Micky swallows nervously to my right. On my left, Jae sits with his hands clenched in his lap, pale and frozen.

_Boom_. The doors fly open and the crowd pours in with a roar. The guards somehow corral the surging mass into the twisting queue line and the rows quickly fill up. Within minutes, the room is packed.

From my safe vantage point, the crowd looks far less frightening.  _It really is all girls_. They’re mostly young, younger than we are, but I see the occasional  _noona_  in there too. They’re chattering away to each other, clutching the booklets they bought or taking pictures with their cell phones. A few girls are panning the room with video cameras.

Jaejin stands at the front of the queue with a clipboard. He looks in my direction and gives me a thumbs-up before unhooking the front cord.

“Which member?” he asks the first girl.

“Micky.” She blushes and hides her face behind the booklet. Jaejin points her to Yoochun’s table. The American smiles when she timidly steps up.

The next girl goes to Changmin. Then Micky again. Then I hear my name. “U-Know Yunho.”

A petite girl in a yellow dress steps up to my table. She can’t be more than fourteen. Her long hair hangs in waves, and I can tell she’s taken time to make herself pretty today. Something about her reminds me of Micha. She looks at me with shy eyes and holds out her booklet.

I smile and take the booklet from her. “Hi. How are you?”

She gives me a nervous smile, but doesn’t say anything. Her face is slowly turning pink.

“Do you want me to sign here? On the cover?” I point to the spot.

She shakes her head. “No. Inside, please. On your picture.” Her voice is a whisper.

I leaf through the pages trying to find my face. “This is my first time seeing this book,” I confess.

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, I saw the pictures and I was obviously there for the interview, but I haven’t seen it all together like this. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” She seems surprised I’m asking. “I think it’s nice.” Then bolder, with a red face. “Your picture looks handsome.”

I grin at her.  _She’s so sweet._  “Thank you. What’s your name? I’ll sign it here.”

“Lee Minji.”

“Minji. Thanks for being my first ever fan signature.” I scrawl my name on the page.

“I am? Me?” her voice squeaks, eyes huge.

“Yes. I’m honored.” I hold out my hand and she shakes it. Then we both bow and she passes on, holding the booklet to her lips.

_That was fun._

Raena was right. Once I relax and start meeting the fans as people and not just a screaming mass, I enjoy myself. I glance up to make sure the others are doing okay too. Yoochun is grinning away at the crowd in front of his table. He seems to have longest line here.  _Huh_. Junsu and Changmin are both doing well, too. They seem happy. Jae’s beautiful face is pale, but he’s smiling. The fan in front of him carries a sign that reads “Kim Jaejoong Is My Hero.”  _Aww._

I greet my next fan.

I glance over at Jae again a few minutes later and notice there are only three fans in his line.  _Must be a lull in people requesting him._

I go back to signing.

When I look over again, Jae’s sitting in silence, eyes lowered, playing with a pen. There’s no one at his table.  _What the hell? Why isn’t Jaejin keeping his line filled?_

I crane my neck to look around my line and see Jaejin talking to the next fan in line. He points to Jae’s line, obviously encouraging the girl to go there. She shakes her head and points to Junsu instead.

I frown.  _What’s going on?_

I wave my arm and catch Jaejin’s attention. He scuttles over.

“What are you doing?” I whisper to him. “Where are Jae’s fans?”

“I don’t know what to do,” he’s almost wringing his hands in distress. “Nobody wants to go to him.”

“Are you joking?” I think of all those forum posts talking about how pretty Jaejoong is. “That can’t be.”

Jaejin shrugs. “Raena told me to fill  gaps in his line with people leaving other members’ queues, so I did that for a while. But now no one will come over.”

I’m stunned.  _This doesn’t make sense._

I look over at Jae again. He’s trying to look brave and nonchalant, like he doesn’t mind being alone. His face is carefully blank as he arranges and rearranges the pens on his tabletop. A fan walks by after leaving Junsu’s table and snaps a picture of Jae sitting all by himself. He looks down, blinking, and I can  _feel_  his hurt humiliation.

_That does it._

I promised to take care of Jae, but here he is, suffering right next to me while I carry on in blissful ignorance.  _No. Never again._

I jump up from my chair and stride over to Jae. He looks up in surprise. A wave of anger rushes through me when I get close enough to see the tears he’s blinking back. This should be a happy day for him. I grab his hand. A loud gasp ripples through the crowd, spreading to echo around us in the hall.

Jae looks at me in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Come on. You’re coming with me.”

I tug him upright, keeping his hand firmly grasped in mine as I grab the back of his chair. I march back to my table, dragging the chair in one hand and towing Jae behind me with the other. I’m dimly aware of the crowd murmuring and sighing, of a million cameras going off around us, of Jaejin’s frantic horror, but I don’t care. All that matters is erasing the pain from Jae’s eyes.

I plunk his chair down behind my table and gently push him down into it. Then I hand him a pen and sit down next to him.

“Anyone who comes to this line gets  _both_  our signatures,” I tell Jaejin. The look on his face is equal parts relief and terror, but he nods and scurries off to the queue.

Raena runs up, clutching a walkie talkie. Her sharp eyes assess the situation. I expect her to direct Jae back to his table, but instead she smiles. Her face is bright with what looks like exhilarated glee as she addresses me.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, young man. Mr. Lee will be furious.”

“I wasn’t going to let one of my members be shamed like that. I—“

She holds up a hand to stop me. “Don’t explain. We can talk about it later, but it’s mostly my fault. You did the right thing.”

I was all set to argue, so her unexpected agreement deflates me. “Yes. I did. Good.”

“You okay, Hero?”

“I’m fine. Sorry to cause so much fuss.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry. Just enjoy the rest of the signing.” She glances at our line and her smile gets even wider. She gives a delighted laugh. “I’ll let you two get to work.” She scuttles off.

“You ready?” I ask Jae. He smiles and nods. He’s looking at me with wonder. The adoration shining in his dark eyes make me feel twenty feet tall, like I’ve done something extraordinary and not just treated him with the respect he deserves. Out of sight under the table, I give his leg a comforting squeeze while I return his look.  _I’ll take care of you._

Then the crowd descends.

 

—*—

 

I stand outside the door to Lee Sooman’s office and take a deep breath. I was at our group’s final practice before tonight’s debut broadcast when Manager Pak pulled me aside. He said I was to report to  _Seonsangnim_  immediately. I wasn’t surprised. I’d been expecting this ever since Yunho made the scene at our fansigning last week. I’m surprised he waited so long, though. If he ends my contract now, the others won’t have enough time to alter the routine.  _What’s he up to?_

I knock on the half-open door.

“Enter.”  _Seonsangnim_ ’s voice is cold.

I push the door open and walk inside. He’s sitting at his desk at the far end of the room, so I have a long walk down the vast room to reach him. I’ve only been here twice before: once to sign my contract and once to make that terrible deal. Just like those other times, I’m intimidated by the visual reminders of SM’s star-making power: the photos of successful groups, the awards, the golden disks. They remind me of how deep the company’s influence runs in the music industry.  _My career is over if he cuts me._

I mount the two steps up the dais and stand in front of his desk. He doesn’t invite me to sit, so I stand uncomfortably and wait for him to tell me why I’m there. But it seems he’s in no hurry to end my suspense.

He leans back in his chair and folds his hands across his belly. The overhead pinlights glint off his gold glasses and shadow his deep-set eyes. His expression is icy.  _As usual._ There’s a thick file in front of him. I can see the corners of pictures and documents sticking out, but not enough to tell what they are. I have a bad feeling about them.

He lets the silence drag on. Even though I know he’s doing it on purpose to make me uncomfortable, it works. I shift my weight from leg to leg, trying not to bite my nails or cross my arms or do anything to betray how nervous I am.

Finally, after several long minutes, he speaks. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

He opens the file, pulls out a picture, and slides it across the desk to me. A quick glance tells me what it is.  _The_  picture. The photograph that’s been on every fan forum and music news site for the past week: Yunho and I holding hands at the fansigning.

_Seonsangnim_  slides more photos across the desk to me: Yunho and I giving each other a deep look, a shared smile. Yunho and I sitting shoulder-to-shoulder as we sign booklets. I’ve seen them all before. How could I avoid it? Yunho’s simple act of kindness has been the topic of hot debate in the music industry for the last week. We haven’t even debuted, and we’re already some of the top searches on internet portals and SNS: DBSK. U-Know Yunho. Hero Jaejoong.  _YunJae_.

I love those pictures. I save a file of every picture of us I see online, to treasure as keepsakes forever. One of the worst moments of my life turned into one of the happiest, thanks to Yunho, and the fans were kind enough to capture it on film for us a million times over. They recognized the beauty and power of the moment, even if they didn’t completely understand it. Or maybe they understand it better than I think. _YunJae_. Speculation runs wild about my relationship with Yunho. Are we lovers? Is it just a friendly gesture being blow out of proportion by the wishful thinking of fangirls? Or is it a calculated act of fanservice to grab attention for SM’s latest group?

Raena is ecstatic. As the controversy escalates, her smile gets bigger and bigger. “You can’t buy buzz like this, boys! This is the kind of press you can only dream of. And on the eve of your debut? I could kiss you both for your brilliant timing.”

Seeing these pictures here, on  _Seonsangnim_ ’s desk, upsets me. I don’t want him soiling that precious moment with his judgment, his malevolent condemnation.

“What am I to make of that picture?” he asks.

I want to laugh. As if we don’t both already know how he sees these pictures. Dangerous. Corrupting. Degenerate.  _He’s toying with me._ He’s already made up his mind about what he’s going to do. I know that from past experience. All that’s left for me to do is agree or disagree to whatever he has planned. He has all the power. I only have choice.

Heart racing, voice shaking, I say, “That’s up to you.”

He looks at me in cold silence, my answer unexpected. I guess I was supposed to argue or deny it meant anything. I wait nervously for his response, trying to imagine what he intends.  _Is he going to end my contract? Is he going to offer me another deal?_ My heart sinks with every possibility I think of. I can’t burden my family. I don’t want to betray more people I care about. I can’t picture any way this will end well for me.

Again,  _Seonsangnim_  draws out the silence until my nerves are stretched thin. Then he pulls some documents from the file and studies them, pursing his lips in thought. From what I can tell, they’re spreadsheets.

“Our PR Director thinks we should encourage this situation. She’s made a…persuasive case for the profit to be made from marketing a “YunJae” couple. What do you think of that?”

I already knew. I shrug.

“The response is undeniably positive,” he muses. “There’s been a surge in mentions across all media. Our stock is up ten points based on anticipated revenue from your debut. Merchandise sales are off the charts for a pre-debut group. Financially, it makes good sense.”

I look at him in confusion. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“I gave her the green light. We’re going ahead with this marketing plan.”

Marketing plan? Yunho and I are a marketing plan?  _He can’t be serious._

I’m shaking with angry disbelief.

“You told me to never go near Yunho that way, to not even let myself  _think_  of him that way or I’d be gone. And now you want us to publicly act like we’re a couple?”

“Calm down. It will all be scripted. The whole thing will be carefully controlled and monitored. It’s not real.” His voice turns menacing. “It will never be real.”

My mind reels at what he’s saying, thoughts scattered all over.  _He’s got this planned out_.  _How far has he taken this idea? What have his spies told him? How much does he know?_   _Has he asked Yunho?_  I try to gather my thoughts. “What does Yunho think?”

“I haven’t spoken to him yet, but he’s a smart and dutiful boy. I have no doubt that he’ll see the advantages of my plan. It’s good business. ‘Know your audience.’” Now it’s  _his_  plan?  _Right_. His pompous tone makes me queasy.

“So I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with Yunho and be convincing, but keep my  _degenerate_  feelings to myself?” I shake my head with bitterness. “You ask too much.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “It’s an act. A performance. Are you saying you can’t do it? You still have feelings for Yunho after all this time? With no encouragement?” His laughter is mocking, mean.

Somehow, his cruelty helps me focus. I stand in silence, letting him wait, as I think through what he’s saying. One thing is crystal clear: he’s always going to use my feelings for Yunho as a weapon against me. He’s always going to beat me up with my own fears. He has the ultimate power, that’s true. He can end my contract at any point, and I’m finished. But I’m not the shy, scared trainee I was several years ago. I don’t believe I’m worthless anymore, that I offer nothing SM can’t get from anyone else. I hear Yunho’s voice in my head:  _You have_ you _. There’s only one Jaejoong. I care about you._ He believes in me. I can’t give in without a fight. And  _Seonsangnim_  might not want to admit it, but I do have something SM can’t get from just anyone.

“What’s in it for me?”

He stares at me, surprise lifting his eyebrows. “Is this a bad joke? What’s in it for you? You get to stay here. I won’t cancel your contract. You become a star instead of a beggar on the street.”

“No.” I shake my head. “That was our last deal, and I’ve stuck to it. Now you’re asking for more. So what’s in it for me now?”

_Did I just say that?_  It’s like I’m watching myself from a distance, floating outside my body while this confident, assured stranger speaks through me. For a long moment,  _Seonsangnim_  stares at me, eyes shrewd pinpoints in his seamed face. When he speaks, his voice is soft.

“Well, well. You’re finally growing up.” For the first time, I hear a faint tinge of respect in his voice. “What do you want?”

Again, it’s like a brave stranger speaks for me. “I’ll do it. I’ll pretend I’m in love with Yunho and do everything PR asks of me, and I’ll keep my feelings to myself—but I won’t be your spy anymore.”

“You want out of the original agreement?”

I’m quivering with fear inside, but my voice is firm. “Take it or leave it.”

There’s another long silence while Lee Sooman studies me across the expanse of his desk. The overhead light exaggerates every line and crag on his face, making him look like a primitive carved god squatting there. I look down at the picture of Yunho holding my hand, and I feel a surge of love go through me.  _He makes me a stronger person._ I smile.

“Deal.”

The harsh voice breaks my reverie.  _Did I hear correctly? Did I really pull this off?_ Before he can change his mind, I extend my arm. “Deal.”

He leans forward to grasp my hand and we shake on it. Then he leans back in his chair to gaze at me with a sour expression.

“You no longer have to report to me, but I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. Watch yourself. One hint of misbehavior with Yunho and you’ll be out with your head spinning. And I’ll make sure everyone in the music industry knows exactly what you are.”

With that, he looks down and starts sweeping the documents into a pile. I’m dismissed.

I give him a courteous bow—which I hate myself for—then turn and pace the echoing length of the room to the door. I close it gently behind me.

In the hall, I lean against the wall as panic strikes. My legs shake so hard I can barely stand. I have to brace my arms on my knees and lean far over to stop myself from fainting. Specks of light swirl behind my eyelids as I concentrate on drawing breath.

But inside me, a tiny voice exults. I did it!  _I’m free_.  
  
 

To be continued...


	16. The Gods in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DBSK makes their official debut. The group goes to a party at the studio.

—)(—

 

 

_“I got that boom boom  
That you want…”_

I’m standing eight meters from Britney Spears. She’s performing onstage at SBS right now while I hide backstage and watch her through a gap in the set.  _She’s good._ She has that star quality that  _Ssem_  always talks about. Her backup dancers are giants, but you don’t notice them once the song starts. All you see is Britney.  _I want stage presence like that._

She finishes her song and the audience goes wild, screaming her name. She smiles and waves, then exits the stage. A team of security and handlers is waiting for her. The moment she steps into the backstage area, she’s whisked away to her dressing room.

“ _Waaaah_. So cool!” says Jae, shaking his head in admiration.

“That’s a world idol for you,” agrees Junsu.

Yoochun tries to act like seeing Britney Spears perform is no big deal, but I saw him imitating her dance moves earlier and singing the lyrics under his breath. He’s a secret fan.

Even stone-faced Changmin seems impressed. I’m the only one who isn’t blown away.

 _BoA is better_. She hits her dance moves harder, and she has more energy on stage.  _But_   _I’m biased_. She’s been working with us the past few weeks on a Christmas carol for tonight’s show. I was surprised by how down-to-earth she is. She’s an SM legend. Instructors hold her up as example of what we should strive for. We all thought she existed on a higher plane than us lowly trainees. But now I know she’s just a kind and friendly  _noona_  who works hard.  _I like her_.

“We should get back before Pak notices,” Changmin says, looking around nervously.

We have strict instructions to stay in our dressing room, but we slipped out from under Pak’s watchful eye to see Britney. Who knows if we’ll ever get this chance again? But now that her stage is over, the others head back. I stay. I want to see BoA perform.

Jae watches the others creep off, then comes to stand close beside me. We’re tucked deep in the shadows of the wings, behind the wooden set-stand. We’re well hidden here, free to watch the performances without being seen. The hosts are talking to BoA about her latest single, while her dance MV runs in the background. Fans keep interrupting the interview with screams, and the hosts have to repeat the questions.

“Do you think we’ll ever be stars like that?” Jae asks, a wistful tone in his voice.

“Sure, why not?” I sound confident, but I know how Jae feels. Tonight’s show is humbling. Seeing what true fame looks like reminds me how far we have to go. There’s a long, hard road to walk before we’re on BoA’s level. But if hard work will get us there, then we’ll succeed. Resolve builds in me to be the best, to try my hardest, to pull my members up with me.  _We’ll make it. I won’t let us fail._

BoA goes on. My eyes are riveted to the stage as she sings  _Rock With U_. The song features a guitar riff, that hard rock sound Jae likes, and I turn to ask him what he thinks. He’s not watching the stage, though. He’s looking at me with the same adoration I saw during the fan signing, the look that makes me feel like a god.

“I have to tell you something,” he says. He sounds serious.

“What is it?” I wonder if it has to do with him being pulled out of our practice this morning. When he came back, he had the strangest look on his face. A sort of…happy…disbelief. “What, Jae?”

He touches my arm gently, the leather of his fingerless gloves cool on my skin. His dark eyes are earnest. He clears his throat. “I want to—“

“There you are!” A shrill voice cuts him off. It’s Raena. And she’s pissed.  _Crap_. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Jae and I mumble a sheepish “No, Director- _nim_.”

“Come with me.” She stalks off toward the dressing rooms, and we quickly fall in behind her. She snaps at us over her shoulder as we go. “We’re going to run through your routine one last time, then you boys are on. No more sneaking off, you hear? I need to know exactly where you are every second until you go on stage in…” She checks her watch and gasps. “Fifteen minutes.”

 _Fifteen minutes_? Something flutters in my stomach, an entire colony of butterflies taking flight. I share a look with Jae and can tell he feels the same way. I try to smile, to reassure him, but it comes out more like a grimace.

Raena leads us down the twisting backstage corridors to a small break room with tables and soda machines. My other members are already waiting there. Judging by Pak’s red face and their cowed looks, they got caught outside the dressing room.

“Okay, listen up!” Raena claps for our attention. “Here’s how it’ll go. You’ll perform the carol with BoA, then immediately head backstage to get your makeup touched up. You’ll have a five-minute break while they reset the stage, then you’re on again with ‘Hug.’ Got it?”

We nod. I’d laugh at our identical looks of wide-eyed terror, if I wasn’t so scared myself.

“Good. Line up.” Raena’s all business.

We get into formation. We’ll have stools to sit on during the stage performance, but in here we use the cafeteria chairs. Pak hits play on a small recorder, and we hear the opening notes of our song.

We quickly run through the routine under Raena’s assessing eye. When we finish, she’s not smiling.  _Uh-oh_. “Micky, be careful. Your long notes are wavering. Changmin, I’ve never seen such a fake smile. Relax and be sincere. Your fans can tell the difference. Hero, that was good, but you’re just a touch faster than everyone else. Stay with the group. Yunho, half your notes were flat. And Xiah…you’re all over the place. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, Director- _nim_. It’s these shoes.” He holds out a foot, and we all look at his black leather slip-ons. “They’re too big. I’m afraid I’m going to step right out of them.”

Raena snaps her fingers at Pak. “Go talk to wardrobe and see if they have something in his size that will work.” He runs off and she turns back to Junsu. “We’ll get those fixed before ‘Hug.’”

Our PR director studies us through her cat-eye glasses, stress visible on her face. “I’ll be honest, boys, I’m concerned. This is not up to your usual standard. You’ve worked so hard and come so far. Don’t stumble at the finish line. Half of Korea is watching you tonight. You have to  _nail_  this performance. Okay?”

We nod with lowered heads, discouraged and afraid. Jae looks near tears and now there’s an army of butterflies whirling inside me. But there’s no time to worry about it. We’re being hustled out of the lounge and back towards the stage.  _It’s almost time._

We stand in the wings and watch stage hands set up a row of stools for us. The stage manager comes over to consult with Raena. I look at my members and see the same nerves on their tense faces as I feel in my stomach.  _We need to focus_.

“Hands in!” I say, calling for a huddle. Everyone stacks their hands in the middle as I look around the circle, making eye contact with each member in turn. “Forget what Raena said. Forget how many people are watching. We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be  _good_. And we’ve practiced so much that we can’t help but be good, right? So let’s go out there and do our best. Okay?”

I get a subdued “okay” from them. I shake my head at them and grin.

“Come on. We’re about to introduce ourselves to the entire country as  _gods_. We can do better than that. Okay?”

This time they yell, “Okay!”

“Good! Now, who are we?”

“The Gods of the East!”

“Yes! Let’s show them what that means! One, two, three…”

“ _Dongbangshinki_  hwaiting!”

We bump fists and break the circle. I see a look of determination on everyone’s faces now.  _Good_.  _We can do this._

Raena motions us over. “Okay, boys. Stand by.”

As the stage manager hands us our mikes, BoA walks up, dressed all in white. She gives us an encouraging smile. “Break a leg!”

We bow. Then the stage manager says, “Go!” and we’re on.

We walk out onto the stage, bowing to the live audience. It’s hard to see them behind the glare of the spotlights, but we can hear their applause loud and clear. My heart beats faster, part from fear and part from excitement.  _This is it_.  _It’s happening_.  _It’s time_.

We smile and wave as we seat ourselves on the stools. The hosts are warming up the crowd with a brief introduction, then suddenly I hear, “Please welcome… _Dongbangshinki_!”

There are scattered polite claps, then silence falls.

We start singing.

My mind goes blank, and I perform the song on auto-pilot, the blessed legacy of a thousand practice sessions. The next thing I know, BoA is on stage with us. Her pure voice rises above our thrumming low tones, then chimes with us in rich harmony. When the last sweet note fades away, applause thunders through the studio. I hear some whistles, too.

_They liked us._

Relief floods me. I bow with the rest of the group, and then we jog off the stage, waving to the audience as we go.

Offstage, we’re jubilant. We slap each other on the back and grin, congratulating each other, as we race to wardrobe for our touch-ups. I’m filled with energy. I feel like I could do anything. I glance over to where the stylist is patting Jae’s face dry and I see the same happiness glowing in his face. I want us to always feel this way. I smile as I cram my fingers into the black gloves the stylist hands me.

Pak rounds the doorway, out of breath and carrying a pair of shoes. He hands them to Junsu. “Here. Try these on.”

The stylist gasps in horror. “No! No, no, no! Those are brown. He can’t wear them. Look at their outfits. Do you see any brown?”

“He can’t dance in shoes that are too big,” protests Pak.

“Well, he’s not wearing brown.”

The two glare at each other.

In my happy mood, nothing is an obstacle. While the other two are arguing, I walk over to Junsu, stripping off my gloves as I go. I hand them to him. “Take these.”

He eyes them in puzzlement. “What are they for?”

“Ball them up in the toes of your shoes. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll help a little bit.”

He shoots me a grateful look and bends down to fix them. Then we’re racing back to the stage for our next number.

Raena grabs us before we go on. “Watch out for the snow they’re dropping on the stage. They said they’ll keep the center clear, but the edges will be slippery. Whatever you do,  _don’t fall_. Xiah, how are your shoes?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Great. Okay, boys. Here’s your moment. Knock ‘em dead.” She pushes us out of the wings as the stage manager shouts “Go!”

The audience is more enthusiastic when we step on stage this time, but that soon fades into background chatter and laughter as they talk to each other, ignoring us.

We take our places on the stools as the lights dim. There’s no introduction from the announcers this time, just the opening notes of our song. I take a deep breath.  _Showtime_.

I count the beats in my head. Jae’s lovely voice starts off right on time, then Yoochun takes over, a little late, but not bad. Then we all start the choreo. It becomes a blur after that.  _Left. Right. Watch my members. Always know where they are._

We’re doing fine until we move to the front of the stage where the fake snow collects. The moment I step out onto it, I know we’re in trouble. We struggle to keep our balance on the slick floor. Junsu is having the worst time of it. His too-large shoes are like toboggans, and he’s sliding all over. It’s throwing him off. He keeps glancing uncertainly over his shoulder to make sure he’s not about to collide with us. But he keeps going. We all do.

We’re almost at the end when Jae has to step out into the midst of the snow for his steps. His foot slips forward and my heart stops as he nearly falls. But he catches himself and backs out of the dangerous area, eyeing the floor nervously.  _Too close._

Then we’re bringing it home. We turn and face the audience in our final lineup, harmonizing on the last notes, and they explode with screams and applause. They’re every bit as loud as they were for BoA or Britney.

_Yes!_

We bow and run offstage.

Raena is standing with her arms spread wide, beaming at us. “You wonderful, incredible boys! I swear, you almost give me heart failure with your mistakes, but then you pull it off every time. I don’t say it often, but today you deserve it: good job! You’ve done very, very well. I’m proud of you.”

We hand our mikes to the stage manager, and then we’re all hugging each other. Changmin starts crying, overwhelmed with emotion in the aftermath of the stress. Junsu pats him on the back, his cherub’s face lit up with a wide grin. Raena slings an arm around Yoochun, who looks uncomfortable being so close to her. I have tears in my eyes and I don’t know why. I grab Jae and pull him into a tight embrace. I hold him close, breathing in his scent and feeling his warmth while my members rejoice all around me. I’m happier than I can ever remember being.

_And this is just the start._

 

—*—

 

“I know,  _umma_. I saw. The PR director showed us a tape of the show.” My mom keeps going on about seeing a clip of our debut on the late night news. She’s proud as can be, relaying everything I say over her shoulder to my sisters.

“ _Umma_ , I have to go. I’m here at the studio, and there’s still stuff I have to do.”

She sniffles, so proud that she’s tearful. “You’re working so hard these days, dear. Can’t you take some time off to relax tonight?”

“I will. But I still have stuff to do before then.”

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go then.”

I hear Minkyung’s voice in the background. “ _Yah!_ Joongie! Tell your members they’re invited over for dinner anytime. We’ll cook you all a celebration feast.”

“Yes!” My  _umma_  agrees with excitement. “I’ll make your favorite dishes. What do your members like to eat?”

“I’ll tell you later. I have to go.”

“Oh, of course. Good luck, dear. Get some rest and take care of yourself.”

In the background, my sisters chorus, “We love you, Joongie!”

“Yes, remember that. We love you and we’re so proud of you.”

“Thanks,  _umma_. I love you all, too.” We say goodbye, and I get off the phone with a full heart. It might be all the champagne I’ve had to drink, but I feel a warm glow of happiness that colors everything tonight.

I look around the room and feel a wave of affection for everyone there. Raena and Jaejin are cackling with glee at all the mentions of DBSK on SMS. The reviews and press for tonight exceeded the PR team’s predictions, and they’re ecstatic. Raena has been downing  _soju_  like it’s water all night, but still seems completely sober. Jaejin’s tolerance isn’t as high, and he nods solemnly at everything she says, his cheeks red as apples.

Yoochun sits by the window for better reception while he talks to his family in America. They don’t get to chat often because international calls are so expensive. His face is turned away, but I can tell by his shaking shoulders that he’s crying. My heart twists in sympathy.

Across the studio, Kangin and Eunhyuk are having a dance-off to Lexy’s  _Aesongi_  while the trainees cheer them on. Somehow, Changmin got roped into their competition. Taehyun offers him a drink, but our  _maknae_  turns it down. He’s completely focused on the dance steps, as he waits tensely for Eunhyuk to tag him in. I smile at his intensity. The youngest of us all, but sometimes he seems like the oldest.

Over by the refreshments table, Heechul chats with Junsu. All the trainees who were in the audience at SBS won’t stop giving my angel-faced member a hard time about sliding around the stage. The story of his oversized shoes is fast becoming legend, but teasing him is too much fun to stop.

“ _Yah_! I had gloves in my shoes!”

“Well, there’s your problem, kitten,” says Heechul. “Gloves go on your  _hands_.”

“There was snow!”

“Snow? Inside the SBS studios?” Heechul acts skeptical just to wind Junsu up. He leans an arm on Hangeng’s shoulder, and the two share a long look as Junsu sputters in outrage.

I spoke with Heechul about his new love-interest earlier. He says that he and Hangeng are still feeling their way through the relationship, but that things are good and refreshingly drama-free.

“It’s possible to go more than three days without an argument. Did you know that? I didn’t.” He sounds happy. I’m glad for him.  _He deserves it._

I told him what happened this morning, how I stood up to  _Seonsangnim_. He was amazed. “I wish I could have seen the look on the old toad’s face when you called his bluff. I’ll bet he never saw it coming.”

 _That reminds me_. I haven’t told Yunho yet.

My gaze flashes to where Yunho sits, patiently listening to Manager Pak. Pak is droning on about something work-related, I can tell from the polite-but-bored expression on Yunho’s handsome face.

I’ve been longing to spend time alone with him all day. It’s a special kind of torture to always be near the one you love, but never get to touch them. All day, I’ve filled my eyes with his smile and his grace. I’ve admired the strength and insight he’s shown as our leader. He makes me proud. I want to tell everyone that he’s mine, my member. My leader.  _My heart._

The long, stressful day gets to me suddenly. I feel a wave of yearning go through me, so intense it leaves me breathless.  _I need Yunho_.  _I want to be with him._  Just a few moments alone with him that I can call my own.  _I can’t wait another minute._ The champagne makes me bold. I pull out my phone and tap in a message.

> _Meet me in the stairwell  
>Five minutes_

 I frown at it. It looks so plain and unappealing like that. I want to  _entice_  him. I add a smiley.  _Better_.  _But maybe…_ I add a rose emoji. Then a flashing star. Then a heart.  _There_. Now, it’s pretty.  _Like a rainbow._  Satisfied, I hit send.

I watch as Yunho fumbles out his cell phone, then reads the message. His eyes search the room until he finds me. I hold his gaze as I nod toward the door, then I turn and walk off.

I manage to slip out the studio door with nobody stopping me. I walk down the dark hallway, humming softly along with the music booming from the room behind me. I might be tipsier than I thought, because I’m having trouble focusing my thoughts. Memories keep assailing me. That’s the practice studio where Four Seasons used to meet. That’s the room where I found Yunho asleep during his long, terrible illness. And this…isn’t this the hallway where I first met Yunho, all those years ago?  _It is._

I smile as I walk past the spot where an insecure trainee met his first real idol. I push the stairwell door open and let it swing shut behind me with a  _whoosh_.

The light in here is dim. The stairs extend in both directions, my footsteps echoing up and down in the darkness. It’s quieter here, and I feel myself relax now that I’m away from the noise of the party. I can still hear music, but it’s muffled, distant.

I lean against the wall and half-close my eyes, waiting.

It’s not long before the door swings open and Yunho stands there, frowning at his phone. “Jae?” he whispers.

“Yes. Here.”

“What does this message mean? All these emojis—“

I grab Yunho by the shirt and drag him into the stairwell. I maneuver him against the wall, pressing his shoulders back and leaning up to find his mouth with mine. I have to stand on my tiptoes to reach him, he’s grown so tall, but I’m full of champagne and determination. I catch that gorgeous, full lip between mine and tug at it, closing my teeth on it gently. Then my eyes fall shut as I meld our lips together, leaning my body into his.

Yunho stiffens for a moment in surprise, then with a low moan, he’s kissing me back. His arms come up around me, one sliding around my waist and the other pushing up into the hair at my nape. He angles my face closer, lips slanting hungrily against mine. For long moments, there’s nothing but our quickened breathing, the hot slide of our lips, and the sweet slick of his tongue against mine. I can feel his heart beating fast and heavy under my pressing chest. The feel of his strong arms around me is…heaven. I feel safe, protected, cared for.  _This_. This moment is what I’ve yearned for all day.

The air feels so hot in here, my skin burning and my heart racing. I can’t seem to get close enough to Yunho, almost whimpering as I push into him, seeking connection. Our kiss grows fervent.

Then his hands are on my arms and he pushes me back, turning his head to the side to gasp for breath.

“Whoa. Wait a minute. Slow down, Jae.” He manages to push me far enough away that he can look into my eyes. His lips are wet and red, and hot color stains his cheeks, but his expression is confused. “What does this mean? What’s going on?”

 “I’m free.”

“You’re what?”

I tell him everything. The whole story of being called to  _Seonsangnim_ ’s office, his new offer, and how I stood up to him. The words come rushing out, and I realize how much I needed to tell Yunho. How none of it seemed real until right now, when I could see the look on his face.

He’s troubled during parts of my story. I know he’s still struggling to accept that his godfather is not the man he thought. I know it’s hard on him. But I love that he’s trying. And I love him for standing by me, even when he’s so conflicted. He’s a good person.  _A worthy choice._

When I’m done relating my story, Yunho exhales. He seems stunned, unsure of how to feel. But he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says, then hesitates. “But I feel like…like I failed you. I wasn’t there for you. You had to solve your problem on your own.”

I shake my head, an emphatic no. “I couldn’t have done it without you. All these years, you’ve stood by me and helped me. You changed my life and taught me to believe in myself. Without you, I’d still be that scared trainee you met years ago. I am who I am now because of you.”

Yunho’s gaze is warm and hopeful, softly roaming my face, eyes touching everywhere. “So what does this mean? Can we be together now?” He pushes a strand of hair away from my temple, gently, his fingertip tracing down my cheek to my lips.

I shake my head. “No, that part hasn’t changed. I’ll still be gone if he finds out I’ve ‘corrupted’ you.”

Yunho’s brows draw together in a frown. “I don’t understand. We shouldn’t be here, then. I won’t risk it, Jae. Not your future.” His voice is firm.

“It’s my risk.”

 “It’s mine, too! I want you in my life. Sex or no sex, I don’t care. It doesn’t change how I feel.”

Tears sting the corners of my eyes, and I have to choke them back to talk. “I know. And I know we shouldn’t. But…I  _want_  to. I want to be with you. So much I can’t bear it. I think about you all the time. I can’t sleep at night, I want to be with you so bad. Yunho, I…love you.”

Yunho’s eyes tip into those perfect eye smiles.

“I love you, too,” he says. His voice is matter of fact, as if he’s surprised it needs to be said.

I’m dumbfounded. “You do?”

“How can you not know? Jae, I’m so in love with you it  _hurts_.”

For the rest of my days on earth, I’ll remember the joy that swept through me at his words, in the one pure and perfect moment of my entire life. It was like every cell in my body suddenly burst into a celestial chorus. Like every good and true thing in the world came to live in my heart.

He pulls me to him and for long moments, we simply embrace. Our bodies are close and warm, our hearts beating in time. The music from the party plays on, and we sway slightly as we breathe each other in. The scent of Yunho’s skin will forever mean shelter to me. I feel safe and secure in his arms.

Yunho’s hand runs slowly up and down my back.  _Comforting_. I’m in a blissful daze.

His lips move against my hair as he whispers. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I couldn’t admit it. I kept telling myself that wanting you was…it was just lust. And all these feelings for you were separate from that, part of our friendship. Then it sort of…crept up on me. I liked spending time with you and enjoyed your company, and then one day I realized that nobody mattered more than you. It’s like I’m missing part of me when you’re not around. None of it means anything without you.”

Tears are trickling down my face, and I rub them off on Yunho’s shirt. I lean back to look into his face, but I can’t speak. My heart overflows with happiness.

Yunho’s thumb sweeps across the puffy skin under my eyes, tenderly brushing away my falling tears. His own eyes shine with love.

I take a deep breath and force myself to speak past the lump in my throat. “I think I fell in love with you the first time I met you in the hallway that night. It was right outside this stairwell. You were with Dana…”

Yunho laughs. “I remember. I had that awful blue vinyl jumpsuit on. And the lion hair.”

“You seemed so far above me. I couldn’t imagine being on your level. You were beyond my reach. I didn’t even know I was in love, at first. I thought I just admired you because you were so talented and so kind. Nobody ever looked out for me before. Not like you. You took care of me. From the moment I met you, you made my life better. You made me a better person.”

I can’t stop crying, tears streaming down my face. I can taste their salt on my lips. Yunho keeps smoothing them away.

“Ahh,” he says. “I can’t believe how selfish and clueless I was back then. How did you stand me?”

I smile and joke. “It wasn’t easy. I’ll probably need years of therapy.”

Yunho chuckles and nudges me with his hip. “Funny.” He leans down to kiss me, a soft graze of lips, before he pulls back and sighs.

“This situation with  _Ssem_  is a mess, but we’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

“Okay.” I look up at him in adoration. I could lose myself in the warmth shining from his beautiful eyes.

He pulls me closer in a tight embrace, and I rest my cheek against his shoulder. We move to the music floating in from the party, a soft ballad now.

_"Those stars in the sky, I’ll give them to you  
Falling flower petals, I’ll always present them to you…"_

We sway in the darkness of the stairwell, lost in the pleasure of being together. On the other side of the door, the real world waits for us with all of its troubles and woes. Our confessions tonight haven’t made our situation easier. Our lives will be more dangerous and stressful, because now we have more to lose. Already, fear eats at the edges of my contentment, but I won’t let it take hold. We can worry about the future tomorrow. Tonight belongs to us alone. I close my eyes and revel in the feel of Yunho’s loving arms around me. In the distance, the music plays on.

 _"Can you hear my heart now?_  
_Close your eyes and listen_  
 _I will confess now_  
 _When I see you,_  
 _my heart skips a beat…"_

~End of Part One

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are wondering, the song at the end is "Secret" from the Summer Scent OST. I was searching for a ballad from 2003 that captured the spirit of this important YunJae moment, and then I stumbled across this one. That it's from one of the classic Four Seasons Kdramas makes it even better. If you watch the video, I'll bet you can pinpoint the exact moment I knew I'd found my song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5X7Zc53qFs
> 
> It’s bittersweet being done with First Love. I’m going to miss writing about YunJae’s innocent pre-debut days. The next section will be darker and more dramatic and move a lot faster, but I'm looking forward to new writing challenges with those scenes. And, yes, we will finally have the sexytimes you've all been asking about—and lots of them. I'd originally planned to end First Love with YunJae's first sex scene, but then it didn't seem right for this story about friendship becoming pure love. Or right for the situation they're in at their debut. This story definitely had a mind of its own sometimes and took me places I wasn’t expecting, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope you are, too.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with my fireflies through their long journey. I'll be posting the sequel only on AFF and LJ, so I hope to see you all there for Part 2! ^^
> 
> xoxo
> 
> Mira


End file.
